


By dawn we'll have our Wings

by LadyKG



Series: the wolves and the ravens [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Dimension Travel, FIx It, M/M, Obito becomes a sensei, Obito blushes nonetheless, Obito gets sent back in time, Obito is angry, Sakumo is a terrible flirt, Sarutobi is so done with everyone's shit, Time Travel, When isn't he, especially a certain time traveler, even though he doesn't really want to be, let's be real, obviously, pre-third war through post third-war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-19 08:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11893743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKG/pseuds/LadyKG
Summary: Obito scowls, “I don’t need an escort. I can take care of myself.”“Unconscious. In Lightning.” Sakumo says dry as dust.“A miscalculation.” The words are stressed against his tongue.“Miscalculations will get you killed.”‘Or bring you back to life,’ Obito thinks sardonically.ORthe one where Obito dimension-time-travels and ends up getting completely and irrevocably lost on a road of life that he didn't even know existed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/gifts).



> 'Ello lovely readers,  
> So this is entirely Blackkat's fault. I've been playing with the idea of this pairing for a while and then she has to go an enable me and it's decidedly not okay. I don't NEED another WIP damnit.  
> But alas, here it is - I've got it outlined for 31 chapters at the moment but rare pair lord knows how story lengths never go as planned.  
> Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

There are many situations that Obito would rather be in right now. Even facing Rin’s frozen gaze and disappointed - _angry_ \- frown is better. Not that the ninja wire or tree particularly bother him. He’s been in worse restraints. No, it’s not even the hum of chakra signatures a handful of feet away (familiar in the way a distant memory can be). It’s the fact he’s alive. Alive and apparently somewhere in another dimension - he doesn’t even need kamui to make sense of this fact. These shinobi hadn’t killed him on sight and that’s more than enough to piece the rest together.

This is not what he had been expecting when taking that blow for Naruto. A blow that, by all logic, he could have used kamui to negate without the need to move from his previous position. But it was supposed to be his last selfish act. One that he made with the conscious knowledge there would be no future for him after it. To die by his own power. His own choice. For a friend and for a sunshine boy with more room in his heart than Obito has ever had. With more forgiveness than their dark world (full of so much war and death and hatred) deserves. That was what he had planned for. But this? Finding himself strapped to the trunk of a tree? Not something he saw in his future plans.

Well. He’s always been good at adapting.

The tree itself hums a steady rhythm of chakra, ready at any moment to reach out and destroy those who have taken him. But Rin had looked at him with despair in her eyes, an unbearable amount of incomprehension at how he could do so much bad in her name.

He takes another steady breath in, regulating his flow of chakra. He gave his word to Rin, as the light took him. Made another promise of a life time that he would prove himself to her; that he would explain and repent. She hadn’t smiled, but she hadn’t frowned either, so he takes it as approval to try his hardest.

Killing these shinobi wouldn’t be trying his hardest.

Maybe he’ll start a farm after he escapes. Konan had mentioned gardening was a stress relief (although he can’t particularly remember the context behind her need to mention this). And with his mokuton he’s sure he could make it work. Besides, if this dimension is anything like his own then there have been wars. Total wars. Rations have always been particularly low during times of conflict, and he is sure the crops will be welcome.

Not that this is something he should be focusing on right now.

The shinobi in front of him have been silent since he has awoken; nearly ten minutes now. Barely even the rustle of clothes gives them away. They’re good, even if they have failed to suppress his chakra - which he would take offense at if not for the convenience. He also isn’t stupid enough to think that it’s not on purpose. It’s a tactic that would have eased a lesser shinobi into a sense of security in the potential for escape. Made them act faster than the time needed to piece together the rest of the puzzle. (Like the seal array hung on the tree behind him, although without mokuton he wouldn't have sensed it.)

That doesn’t mean he’s not going to use this to his advantage - it’s their own misfortune that they used this method on a captive with kamui. Another minute passes and he’s more than prepared to open his eyes and make a move when a deep voice rumbles from the group of signatures, “Are you going to keep pretending to sleep?”

Obito stills for a second, because it has been a very long time since anyone has been able to call him on faking his level of consciousness. This very well may be a ploy. Still, there’s the shift of fabric, more noticeable then before and it sets off every instinct in his body.

He opens his eyes, sharingans active. Except he freezes. Because that particular shock of silver is achingly familiar.

 _‘Kakashi?’_ He almost says aloud, but bites his tongue. Because, no. It’s not. Similar, but not exact and the chakra signature isn’t quite right. The man is moving towards him, posture entirely relaxed except for how Obito _knows_ he isn’t.

“Who are you?”

“You know, it’s only polite to introduce yourself when asking for someone’s name,” the man says as he comes to squat in front of Obito at a respectable distance. (And Obito swears he hears a muttered _‘Why do the pretty ones always lack manners?’_ But he pushes it away without another thought.)

This close Obito can make out the glint of a Konoha headband and that really doesn’t make his night any better (not worse, exactly. But he would rather deal with another nation to be honest. At least then he could justify any possible harm he might bring them.) What also becomes glaringly obvious is the sheer resemblance that this man has with Kakashi beyond hair color. In the end, it’s the sabre at the man’s back that cements the growing realization in Obito’s mind.

“You’re the white fang,” he says, and although he tries to keep the shock from his voice he’s sure some of it bleeds through. The raised eyebrow he receives in return doesn’t help in dissuading his belief. Which means…

Well, time always was just another dimension. And if the fates decided that he should be thrown across worlds then why wouldn’t they mix time in as well?

Judging by his rough estimation of the man’s age it’s around the third war.

It doesn’t take much for his mind to cling onto the fact that Rin is very much _alive_ and not yet another pawn in Zetsu’s games. Alive, and happy, and not yet a victim to this world’s hate. Alive and… in Konoha.

Completely out of his reach to _protect_. Because what better way to repent than to help keep her and her precious people alive? What better way to prove that he has changed? Even if the thought of seeing Konoha again makes his stomach churn oddly. There isn’t even a guarantee that they will let a complete stranger-

Except.

“Uchiha Obito,” he finally says, letting his sharingan fade away to black. Not only a sign of trust but proof that his eyes aren’t stolen and he _is,_ in fact, part of the clan. He pushes a bit of relief into his gaze as well, the kind that he feels at knowing he can still keep Rin safe. Tries to implore the man before him - Kakashi’s _father_ \- to accept this truth.

“Uchiha, huh,” the man offers a lazy smile, lopsided and predatory around the edges as he scans over Obito’s completely _white_ head of hair. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing this far in Lightning country?”

He pointedly ignores the comment on his appearance, opting for leveling the man with a flat look instead. He could tell the man he’s on a mission, but Uchiha don’t go on solo missions often. Not unless they’re ANBU or hunter-nin. And the likelihood of finding either such shinobi in his state so far in another nation’s territory is slim to none. (Besides, it won’t really work with the plan he’s starting to form.)

“Miscalculation,” he says.

“One hell of a miscalculation.” The man has just enough time to tip his head to one side before he’s leaping back to avoid the kunai now embedded where he had squatted a moment ago.

“Friends of yours?” Even as Obito asks he’s at Sakumo’s back plucking a kunai from the air for inspection. There standard weapons, but as the first of them come from the shadows Obito can recognize the Iwa uniform - as outdated as it is to him. When he glances back it’s to a wide eyed expression. He supposes having someone literally phase through you can be cause for such a reaction.

“That’s a nice trick you got there, dattabane!” He feels something in his chest constrict as the red hair that matches that voice flies past in his peripheral. Obito could have gone life times without hearing her voice again. Although it explains the seal and the strange double-edged feeling in the chakra signatures.

In truth, he is more than thankful his reintroduction to Kushina is during battle. A short battle, judging by how efficient this team seems to be. But a battle nonetheless. It gives him the time to push down the weighing guilt she brings up.

He takes those emotions and puts them into the motion of gutting a women trying to slip past an Inuzuka and her nin-kin. (He almost doesn’t kill her, almost flips his blade and simply knocks her out. But the instinct to end a threat is automatic. And the thought that he could approach her in any other way than mortally crossed his mind too late. He hopes Rin will forgive him this.)

“So pretty boy has some bite to him,” the Inuzuka laughs, dodging a shuriken that implants into a tree.

Between these three Konoha must have sent them out for either a capture or hunt. Two trackers and at least one to be considered a heavy hitter makes for a good set up.

There is the crackle of lighting in the air and Obito allows his enemy time to fall back so he can catch sight of Sakumo expertly wielding his sabre. The man truly deserves his legendary title. His movements are smooth and not a single motion is wasted as his enemies desperately try to defend against the onslaught of blows. The Iwa jounin don’t stand a chance. The moment is ruined, however, when Sakumo catches his eyes. A wink and wide smile have Obito bristling and he turns away with a huff. All this in the seconds it takes for his own shinobi to decide on a new way to confront him. He easily blocks the kunai sent his way as a distraction, ducks under the roundhouse kick and the ninja wire isn’t even a surprise with how simple their genjutsu is. But the exploding tags are a nice touch, especially considering that the lower ones kick up a few rocks and dirt that the doton user wastes no time taking advantage of. A nice distraction for the jutsu that their trying to prepare. But it does little to help. Obito doesn’t bother letting them finish the hand signs their going through, using kamui to appear behind them and knock them out with a sharp blow to the back of the head. Making sure to refrain from instincts this time - best to have at least one for interrogation, anyway.

The sounds of the fight have all but completely disappeared. And so he takes a step back, turning to come eye to eye (or, well, eye to nose - the man has at least an inch on him) with Sakumo. A light in his grey gaze that Obito is _not_ going to look further into.

He smiles and Obito narrows his eyes, “Are you going to allow me the honor of escorting you home?”

The words are so ridiculous that Obito wants to laugh. He bites his tongue but he can’t stop his lips from twitching. And not only because they sound like something out of those damn books Kakashi always reads. But because home is not a concept he has given thought to in a long time. It became just a word, another potential that his plans could bring into fruition. But now…

Konohagakure. Obito is unsure how to react to the strangeness at trying to connect the two. The village hidden in the leaves is a place he used to love, could’ve fought to protect with everything. Now, he isn’t so sure it’s his to call home. He will go, of course, because Rin is there. Rin, and Minato, and Kakashi, and a younger him - which is going to be strange now that he thinks about it. Especially considering he told Sakumo his actual name which means there’s no going back on it now. (There are, actually, ways to handle this. But he wants this name. Wants to keep it after he just got it back.) But he hasn’t had a home in a long time. Isn’t sure he remembers how it feels. And there is still so much he has to do.

“Not until we clean up this mess,” the Inuzuka interrupts before he has paused too long to make his answer stilted. “We can’t have Kumo knowing we were this far in their country.”

He has almost turned to tie up the unconscious shinobi when there is a flak jacket shoved in front of him. Obito blinks at the material before following the extended arm back to its owner. It takes a moment for him to understand _why_ Sakumo is making the gesture - being shirtless isn’t exactly safe nor the ideal etiquette even for shinobi.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the jacket even as he knows that his dimension has closets worth of clothes stored away. He’d rather use kamui as little as possible in front of them at the moment. Keeping its uses to fights would be ideal.

Sakumo opens his mouth for a reply Obito never hears as the Inuzuka starting dragging the man away to get to work. “My names Inuzuka Tsume by the way,” she call back over her shoulder. “My partner is Kuromaru, and the redhead over there’s Uzumaki Kushina.”

And that’s it. They’ve cleaned up the bodies and weapons within an hour - interrogation included. The shinobi had nothing useful, and in the end they offered them a swift death before being sealed along with the rest of their comrades.

“We should head southeast for at least an hour before setting up camp again,” Sakumo announces and Obito can’t say he isn’t slightly shocked by how easily they accept his presence. How easily they think he’s going to stay. (It would be easier, mind you. Because entering Konoha in a whirl of kamui won’t be gaining him any favors. Not the way having the tentative approval and presence of Konoha’s white fang, red hot habanero, and a clan member will. But he can’t face the village - can’t face _Rin_ \- without first taking out at least Madara. Without turning Zetsu’s plans to dust and sending the shadow into a dimension devoid of anything. Although he’ll stay the night; it’s best to leave with as good an impression as possible. Because he has no doubt this will be reported to the Hokage and it would be best for his plans if he sticks around a little longer.)

The war clearly hasn’t started yet, but if Iwa shinobi are in Kumo then it can’t be too far off their horizon. Which means he’s too late to do anything to prevent it. The war that will set in motion the rest of Zetsu’s plans. Obito feels his fists clench as they take to the trees. Not this time. Zetsu will be well and truly gone before he can destroy this world if Obito has anything to say about it.

And if this dimension follows a similar timeline and it truly is before the third war then there is still time for that at the very least. And _that_ might just make this second chance worth something.

 

 

By the time they stop they have perhaps a handful of hours to sleep. But they are shinobi, and even less is enough.

“We’ll take watch in pairs,” Sakumo announces, his eyes sharp even in the dim light. Obito knows they’re doing this to keep an eye on him. He may not be tied up but that doesn’t mean they are willing put their lives in his hands. He can’t bring himself hold it against them.

“Tsume, you and Kushina take the second shift.” The order is followed, even if Kushina grumbles about wanting to be with the Uchiha who got past her seal.

But Obito is more than thankful for not being paired with her. He isn’t sure that he could keep his emotions in check, because as much as he has hid them under anger and pain for all these years they are still there. And now that he isn’t twisting them so thoroughly they’re stronger than ever. (Or maybe it’s just the ache of wishing for death’s more peaceful embrace. For the peace of making one final choice. One that he knows is _right._ A wishful thought that spins near non-stop in his mind sending his emotions into a storm.)

“This miscalculation,” Sakumo hums, “it has to do with that technique you used back there. It wasn’t shunshin. Kushina’s seal would have flared if you broke the wires,” he continues, “and I swear you went right through me.”

Obito is silent for a moment, eyes on the darkness around them as he turns everything over in his head. He has had nearly two hours to think over what he would and wouldn’t say here. What would give him the best chance when he actually goes to Konoha.

“It’s an ability my sharingan gives me.”

“To go through solid objects?”

“Something like that.”

“It that how you ended up unconscious in another nation?”

Obito says nothing. Not outright lying, but omission will allow for the man to draw his own conclusions. The silence stretches. With each passing minute he is sure they will spend the rest of their time with only the sounds of their environment for company.

Of course, the Hatake can’t accept this. “I’ve never seen you around the village.”

Obito snorts, “You presume to know everyone in Konoha?”

The man laughs, the sound rumbling up from his chest and breaking out on a choked down attempt to remain quiet. “Not at all, but I think I would’ve noticed someone as beautiful as you.”

“I didn’t realize interrogations came with such blatantly poor flattery.”

“Clearly you haven’t spent enough time in T and I.”

“And you’ve spent too much.”

“It’s true though. You really are attractive,” Sakumo tells him. There’s a look in his face that Obito can’t really explain away as analysis of a potential threat.

“Training trip,” he blurts. Because he can feel the heat of a blush rising against his will and it’s a lot safer ground than the thought of the white fang (poorly) _flirting_ with him.

“Huh?” The man blinks at him.

“I’ve been on a training trip for the past few years,” Obito says, forcing himself not to rush the explanation. “It’s why I haven’t been in the village.”

“Oh, are you returning soon then?”

“I-“ he could say yes, it _would_ be easier to have the white fang at his back. But his heart twists at facing Rin without at least doing _something_ to prove he doesn’t intend to go down the same path again. It’s selfish. Selfish to not want to face her just yet. But Obito doesn’t force himself to care. “-actually have another stop to make before I go back.”

“Then I won’t have the honor of escorting you home,” Sakumo sighs as if this is the greatest disservice.

Obito scowls, “I don’t need an escort. I can take care of myself.”

“Unconscious. In Lightning.” Sakumo says dry as dust.

“A _miscalculation._ ” The words are stressed against his tongue.

“Miscalculations will get you killed.”

 _‘Or bring you back to life,’_ Obito thinks sardonically. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“So certain?”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

Sakumo is smart enough to hear the double meaning. Smart enough that the topic is dropped.

“How long will you take?” The man asks instead.

Obito shrugs. He doesn’t know. Getting to the graveyard will take no time at all with kamui, and killing an older Madara is as simple as unhooking him from the statue. But if he still has the freedom of not truly being affiliated with a village he could step in to stop so much more. However, most of what he is to change could trace back to Zetsu, Danzo, or himself. So there is little point in avoiding ( _running_ ) from the inevitable longer than he has to. Doing so would only give Sarutobi more time to plan, to dig into his lies and spread a demand for his head.

All the same, he could go to Kiri. Could stop the bloody mist, but that will be cleared up in a few years’ time if he remembers correctly. And so long as Yagura doesn’t start the blood limit purges without Obito’s persuasion then he has little reason to step in beyond warning of Zetsu. Ame would be his next best bet, but he isn’t sure exactly when the Akatsuki forms, and if he intervenes now it could have too much effect on the movement against Hanzo later. Besides, if he goes there under Konoha’s name to help defeat Hanzo it will earn a treaty at the least and settle some of the tension between the smaller and larger nations. (He will make a point to check in, of course, but whether or not he will be making contact is not set in stone.)

“A few days, maybe.” He finally answers, rising smoothly to his feet at the same time. He starts taking off the flak jacket, more than willing to let the man have it back.

“Keep it,” the two words stop him. “It’s not safe without a bit of protection.”

Obito is _not_ flattered by the gesture. Nope. Not at all. And he most certainly does not turn away to hide the way his cheeks feel hotter than a moment ago. (It’s been years since someone has shown concern about his wellbeing. And to be faced with it now leaves him feeling oddly uncertain.) “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you in a few days then,” the man’s smile shines through his voice.

“Don't hold your breath,” Obito tells him as he starts to slip into the woods. “I have a habit of being late.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ello lovely readers! Okay, so this update happened Fast. (Even if it was later than I intended.) A lot faster than this fic will normally update, because I have like seven WIP posted and a ton of other fic ideas swimming around in my notebooks. I’ll try to update as quick as I can.

Obito waits until he’s an hour outside of even the best sensor’s range before letting kamui swallow him. He stays in his dimension long enough to grab a naginata before taking the leap into the mountain graveyard. In most situations he would opt for a more subtle approach beyond simply appearing in the middle of the cave weapons drawn. Would plan. But this is not most situations.

He allows himself all of a glance to take in his surroundings before he’s moving. The clones come first, of course. And he viciously cuts them down. Dodging each of their attacks with all the precision that his eyes allow him. He catches sight of the statue to his right, Madara not far off and the _look_ on the man’s face - Obito has to stop the laughter from bursting out of him.

He leaps out of the way of reaching white plant matter. Phases through the attack of mokuton without pause. And ducks under and around a clone’s attempt to skewer him.

The statue is his priority. Once he gets it out of this dimension then taking out Madara and black Zetsu will be easier. And it will ensure that their plans turn to dust.

His naginata slices through the neck of one clone, and he wastes no time twisting it to slam another into the cave wall. Obito jumps back then, flying through hand signs and sucking in a breath.

“Katon: Gokakyu no jutsu.” The ball bursts over the remaining clones, engulfing them in molten flames. Without another second he uses kamui to appear next to the statue, ignoring the gruff protests coming from a living corpse.

With something this big it’s best to be touching it, more control and less damage if he’s forced to look away in the middle of the technique. The statue is more than half gone when he’s has to move to the side to avoid getting struck through the head. But it does little to save his shoulder from damage. The pain earns a grunt of protest before being distracted by the feeling of his stomach being run through. But the statue is gone by then, and he feels more than a little happy when he turns around and cuts the clone’s head off.

The wounds are superficial, they will heal within the time it takes him to get rid of the two remaining pests in this forsaken cave. (Still, the wounds and blood have ruined Sakumo’s flak jacket and that annoys Obito more than it probably should.)

He turns and faces the man that started this all with a sickening grin starting to spread across his face. He’s sure it pulls at his scars, sure it fills his eyes with a madness that would put fear in lesser shinobi. He doesn’t care.

“You fool,” Madara rasps out, glaring something vicious, “do you have any idea what you’ve just _done_?”

Obito’s grin widens, “Brought the dreams of a twisted old man to an end.”

“You’ve doomed us to war,” Madara hisses as if not hearing Obito at all. “With that statue I would bring-.”

“Shut up already,” he says, entirely satisfied with the way Madara’s head rolls across the cave. It makes the prettiest of squelching noises against the damp rocks.

It’s then that he truly takes notice of it. Or the _lack_ of it to be perfectly precise. The silence in the cave becomes so heavy that he swears the pounding of his heart is echoing from the walls.

Zetsu is gone. Had he even been here in the first place? (He remembers times the shadow and white Zetsu would leave; they were rare, even rarer before he agreed to help, but it happened.) A heat fills him, fast and boiling it sticks itself through his heart and makes his throat tickle with the need to scream. With a frustrated clench of his fists and a burst of chakra he punches the remaining body of Madara to splatter against the wall. There’s not a chance that Zetsu won’t sense something is off (if the clones haven’t already sent out a message through their network of roots and plants while they fought). Even if Obito put the statue back and waited Zetsu wouldn’t come knowing he is here and Madara is gone. Although it wouldn’t _hurt_ to wait and see. Because he can’t even track Zetsu with how they travel. He’ll need to back track to think of what happened that could be blamed on Zetsu’s interference. But that won’t be enough. He’ll have to listen to rumors and follow the pattern that he had in the other dimension to even potentially have a chance at tracking the shadow.

A spy network will be needed for such a thing. Or, something similar, because Jiraiya is still one of the best spies out there and Obito is sure that Sarutobi will have the man looking for rumors once enough is explained.

With a sigh he squats down to seal Madara’s head (making sure to remove the man’s eyes first, there is no tell what could happen to them should he let them be. He isn’t about to risk it). It seems he’ll be making those stops in Kiri and Ame after all. At the very least he can warn them.

He'll wait out the night here just to ensure his suspicions aren’t misled. (And because if Zetsu _does_ return then the plant will either confront him or slip into the shadows to plot and do so later. Either way, Zetsu will come after him for destroying his plans and Obito will be ready. In fact, having the plant come to him will makes things _easier_ if anything.) If they aren’t he will head to Kiri and then Ame. From there returning to Konoha will be his best option. It matters little whether or not he returns before or after Sakumo’s team. The simple fact that he has gained their tentative support will help in any scenario. Although, he supposes returning earlier will lend a hand in keeping them from trying to ask the clan about his existence and coming up with too many confused, non-answers.

He rises back to his feet, scanning over the cave and letting his eyes fall on the bed that he had spent his time recovering in. What catches his eye then is the IV drip and materials scattered on a table nearby. His lips tug down into a frown as he walks over and lets his hand run across the sheets. They’re fresh. Been washed a day ago at most. And so are the medical supplies; cleaned and laid out as if in preparation. But the third war hasn’t even started yet, so there would be no way that Zetsu could get his hands on Obito’s younger self. Not unless this world is different enough to warrant Obito gaining his sharingan and getting injured so much earlier. He doubts that’s the case.

The only other explanation would be that he wasn’t the first. Something he hadn’t given much thought to when in captivity and had not bothered to care about after Rin’s death. It would explain why Madara had waited so long to enact his plans - not just because of Zetsu and timing, but because they hadn’t had their perfect pawn yet. It would explain why the man knew so much about how to repair Obito’s body with Senju cells. (Not even Orochimaru had so much success with adding them to live subjects.) It explains so much - him not being the first. One of many to have been placed under Madara and Zetsu’s care. One of many to be experimented on. To be taken from the battlefields. To have their lives watched and their injuries planned out to be precisely close to death but never quite there.

One of many.

But the first to survive. The first to be manipulated so easily into Zetsu’s hands. His jaw aches with how hard he clenches his teeth together. Taking a long breath in through his nose, he lets it out audibly into the stillness of the cave as he turns on his heal to start searching the hideout. There will be no information here. At least not the kind that he won’t already know, because Zetsu would never be so careless. (The shadow may not expect an attack, but manipulation is a game of strings and knife edges that can so easily crumble if one thing is taken wrong. It’s not possible that Zetsu would risk it.) But there is a satisfaction in making sure to gather and destroy all the vials and bottles of Senju cells that he can find. Best to not let Zetsu have such easy access to creating a new pawn. (It could even be what Zetsu is off doing right now; ensuring that some unfortunate shinobi is suffering from near mortal wounds.) To do this much more against him eases some tension in Obito’s chest. But not enough.

The sun is only just peaking over the horizon, casting thicker shadows across the landscape that work to swallow up the forest the same way the night is still struggling to swallow the sky. Zetsu never returned - at least not in a way that Obito could deal with or tell. The creature must be truly seething to know that the plans they had so carefully crafted all came to a halt with Obito’s intervention. It’s little comfort in the face of his continued existence. But it will have to do for now. Because Obito needs to move on if he wants to get talk with the Mizukage and check in on the Akatsuki in a timely manner.

 

 

Kiri is as he remembers it, if a bit more lively than in his time and dimension (that may have something to do with the lack of a blood limit purge). There is a thick pressure in the air that promises rain even as the sky overhead is a lazy blue.

He isn’t Obito here, not when the threat of having him revealed later is a real possibility. The Hokage may see fit to send him to Kiri one day and he doesn't particularly want to deal with having to tip toe around everything. It’s not as hard as he thought it would be to put on his orange mask again. To change into all but his Akatsuki cloak and become Tobi. (There isn’t much he can do about the hair, but a genjutsu and a hood helps cover up the unique color). Perhaps because of the necessity of it. Or because now it represents protecting Rin instead of an illusion.

“How did you get in here?” The Mizukage demands, his eyes seething with anger from where he now sits behind his desk.

“The front door,” he hums, rocking on his feet like he hasn’t a care in the world. (It’s the truth, sort of. He _did_ come through the front door. Just in a more literal sense than is normally given to the statement.)

“You expect me to believe that?” The Mizukage looks at him like he has a second head.

“Genjutsu are really cool, aren’t they?” He asks in way of answer, holding back his snickers at the way Yagura looks like he wants to strangle something.

“Let’s say I believe you.” The man leans forward, “You walked into my office without notice. You could have taken anything in here while I was gone. Yet none of the seals have been disturbed and you instead _wait_ for me. To what? Say that? What does this gain you?”

“Information,” he wonders over to the man’s desk, picking up a blank scroll to seemingly absently toy with it.

“Information.” Yagura parrots with all the emotion of a dried up cactus.

“There’s a pest going around,” Obito says simply, letting the Kage conclude the rest.

“Why should I help you?”

“It’s in your best interest,” he opens the scroll, letting the blank paper roll across the floor before starting to reel it back in.

“The only interest I have right now is getting rid of the pest invading my office.”

“So mean,” he snickers, because Obito has faced down a goddess and the man before him looks like he just came out of a meeting with his advisors. That is to say; exhausted and angry at the world. “What about the war?”

Yagura’s eyes narrow, the ANBU in the shadows shift, and the room fast becomes filled with the pressure of chakra. “War?”

“Surely you’ve felt the tension.” He tilts his masked face to one side. By the flash in the man’s eyes he’s hit the mark. “It’s only a matter of time before the larger nations start making official announcements.”

“And what does this pest have to do with any of this?”

“He’s a very _bad_ pest.” He taps his fingers idly on the desk. Drumming a senseless pattern. “He wants to destroy the world. One nation at a time.”

It earns him a bark of laughter. Obito doesn't bother rising to the bait of offense. He knew the man would most likely not believe him regardless of how he came at this. He has nothing to really offer Yagura anyway; no money, no information backed by proof beyond his own word. Nothing that a shinobi would count as significant. Not yet.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

 _‘Yes,’_ he wants to say but doesn’t. There are easier ways to do this than words, but Obito promised and he likes to think he’ll keep it this time around.

“To believe or not to matters little in the face of facts.” He stops his fingers, letting them slide along the wood briefly, his glove making the motion smooth. “Especially those that end in your death.”

The threat that comes with his words is not lost on the man before him, nor the ANBU in his presence. But they make no move to detain him just yet. A good sign, if anything.

He continues, taking the lack of action and silence for what it is, “Zetsu has no use for a puppet that has lived past its worth. And Kiri is has no place in his plans beyond that tailed beast you’re tracking to seal.”

Purple eyes flash with a heat that would burn anyone else, “How do you know about that?”

“You might as well hand the biju over with a bow on top,” he ignores the question. “This coming war is the perfect opportunity.” He doesn’t bother elaborating on what for, there is no need to when he has practically handed Yagura the answers on a silver platter.

“You’re saying you can kill him?” The Mizukage says with disdainful sarcasm.

“Not without information on his movements. In exchange I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the chance to enact his plans.” He pointedly doesn’t say _which_ plans. Not that having Kiri brought to civil war is exactly in his schedule, but this is still the nation that carried out the mission killing Rin. Even if he’s seen the error in trying to take over the world it doesn’t mean the ache is gone when thinking about it.

He doesn’t bother waiting for the Mizukage’s reply, he lets himself out the window, using kamui to disappear halfway down. He will - or _Tobi_ will - return in a month’s time or so to see what the man has decided.

He lands on a towering grey pillar, sliding to let himself sit on the surface as he pulls his mask off. The scroll he had been fiddling with in the office twirls in his hand. It’s the perfect way to warn the Akatsuki's leaders.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ello lovely readers,  
> Sorry that this took so long to update, my life has literally been hell lately and just. Ugh. But at least I got it up! And hey, the chapter after this one will have different character perspectives! That’s kinda a new thing for me… so… yeah. Enjoy!

It’s not significantly difficult to decide to approach Nagato alone. He _could_ meet the Ame orphans together, but it would then be taken with suspicion to seek out Nagato to talk about his rinnegan. Something that he’s going to need to do in order to convince the boy to give his eyes up at a later date. Besides, together they create a more united front against potential lies and Obito doesn’t need to make this any more difficult than it already is.

Nagato’s younger than he remembers him being. Or perhaps, it’s just because Obito is so much older now. The redhead still has light in his purple gaze; still has hope tucked under the hard exterior of a shinobi coming into their prime. It makes this so much easier, all that readiness for sacrifice and will to put himself wholly into a cause. The belief that justice and peace will prevail over the war that the people of Ame and other smaller nations have grown up in the thick of.

At one time Obito wouldn’t have hesitated to crush that, to destroy this child and build him up into something easier to predict and manipulate. _Had_ done exactly that. But not anymore. Not this time. This time he will use that hope to build the boy’s trust, he will help him reach his goals, and then use that debt owed for the information he offers to further his own ambitions.

Obito sucks in a breath, lets his mask slip on more securely, and takes a deliberately stumbling step towards the Uzumaki in the training ground. It grabs Nagato’s attention.

He looks around, taking in everything with the air of confusion of one who has just come out of an impromptu shunshin. When he spots Nagato he lets his eyes widen behind his mask, lets himself stumble another step forward. Reaching into his weapons pouch and pulling out the scroll he rushes towards Nagato, just fast enough to come off as desperate.

“You-“ he cuts off as a kunai is pressed into his throat. But he shoves the scroll into Nagato’s chest all the same, forcing his free hand to come up and take it out of defense if nothing else.

“Who are you?” Nagato’s eyes are narrowed, scanning over the mask, the scroll. “You’re not from Ame.” (And perhaps that sounds less suspicious than it _should._ But then again they have only just started to gain ground as the Akatsuki, and they have every reason to believe _Hanzo_ will make a move against them sooner rather than later. A foreign shinobi bearing a scroll from Kiri would not be as suspicious to attack based on bias towards the Akatsuki’s political movements.)

Obito presses the scroll more insistently into the Uzumaki’s grip. “Everything you need to know is in here.”

“Who _are_ you?” The words are tense now, the air pressure building with the rise of chakra.

“Tobi, at your service,” he says trying for cheerful but purposefully anxious, whipping his head around to look over his shoulder, careful of the blade still at his throat, he continues, “but I don’t have much time.”

Nagato moves back, putting distance between them. But he doesn’t let go of the scroll. Obito counts that as a win. “What do you mean?”

There’s a threat in those words, not hidden well enough to be anything else. A threat that should he have brought danger down upon Ame - upon those that Nagato considers precious -then he will pay a price. “Zetsu’s clones, they’re onto me,” he brings his gaze back around. “He’ll be coming for you too. For your eyes.” He tilts his head to the side, letting his hand trail up and brush feather light against the left side of his mask, “He already got mine.” An answer just as much as a prompt to be curious about the details.

The following silence is all the response he needs to continue.

“The rinnegan can do more than you know, and that _pest_ will do anything to get his hands on another one. _Kill anyone_.” He takes a step forward, testing. Nagato doesn’t step back.

“And the Kiri scroll?”

“You’re not the only thing Zetsu’s after.” (The scroll is key in all of this. His tentative plans will come to fruition all because of the conclusions that such a small detail will draw out. Not only will it ensure that the Mizukage cannot deny their relation and therefore that what he has said holds some truth, but it also gives Obito full reign over explaining exactly _how_ he and Kiri have such a relationship as to constitute a non-Kiri-nin delivering this scroll. To top it off, the accompanying implication that Kiri also either has something that Zetsu wants will lead Nagato to investigate. Because it can imply that Kiri also has a rinnegan user, or it can imply that the rinnegan is not the only integral part of Zetsu’s schemes. But Nagato won’t confront Kiri on it right away, not with the tensions of war and revolution cresting over the horizon. He will wait until Zetsu appears the first time and then he will contact Kiri. And even if he attempts to do so earlier the information exchanged will be vague at best because Kiri will not show weakness at a time like this, and neither will Akatsuki. Either way, the results will work in his favor.)

Nagato watches him for a minute, studying the shifting, and the anxious air that he keeps wrapped around himself like a cloak. “What do you want?” And that isn’t a far leap to why he has come, nor is it entirely unexpected that Nagato would jump on it so soon in the conversation.

“I’m in the business of extermination,” he says light as he can while still holding his voice just above whisper. “The best way to deal with this pest is to make him come to me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t it?” He asks, all cheer and innocent body language.

“No.” Nagato deadpans. And Obito won’t deny that he was so much more entertaining to poke fun at when he was Pein.

“I need information about Zetsu and his movements. As I said, he’ll come for you and destroy everything you care for just to get those eyes.”

“You’re tracking him,” Nagato says, before his expression changes and suddenly his kunai is back at the ready. “You said you were getting him to come to you.”

Obito knows Nagato has figured out what he is about to say next, it’s an obvious leap for any shinobi. Still, he pauses here, taking in the way the boy before him is defensive. It would be better to have earned more trust from him. Perhaps Obito has miscalculated exactly how much the loss of Yahiko affected Nagato all those years ago. Nonetheless, he needs to say it now, best not to dance around the subject and make it even worse later. He has contingency plans anyway. “I need your eyes.”

He jumps back as a kunai sinks into the damp earth were he had stood moments ago. “No need to be so mean,” he huffs, although he isn’t sure Nagato caught it.

“Then you are no better than this Zetsu,” Nagato’s eyes are narrowed, body defensive. “Leave.”

“I want to destroy them.” He forces the displeasure at that comparison to wash over him without affect. “They bring harm to you as well as those around you,” he informs, letting Nagato circle him. “Draining chakra. Corrupting the user.”

“Liar.” (But the word is weak against the fact Nagato has more than likely felt the drainage already, has felt how the eyes take more chakra than any other technique. Has felt the way they eat away at his reserves.)

“Did you know they can bring someone back to life?” He doesn’t even bother making the shift in topic subtle.

“What are you-“

“You could protect everyone you care about,” he hums. “Bring peace to Ame.”

“And this is supposed to convince me to give them to you?”

Obito tilts his head, “No. It’s supposed to help you. Zetsu needs you to lose against Hanzo, otherwise he won’t be able to convince you to give him your eyes. The more you know about the powers they hold the better off you are.”

“Why would I believe you?”

“I came here to give a warning, and convince you to let me destroy your eyes after you overthrow Hanzo. Whether you believe or not will matter little when Zetsu comes to kill those you care about.”

Nagato stops in front of him, mouth tight in a harsh line. “How do you know all of this?”

“The same reason I want Zetsu dead,” he places one hand onto his hip.

“Revenge.” Nagato says, “You think I would follow the same path?”

“With the right push, anyone would.” (Except, perhaps, a boy made of sunshine that lives a lifetime away.) “And with the rinnegan’s corruption…”

“Sensei said these are the same eyes as the Sage’s,” Nagato counters. “They wouldn’t corrupt.”

“To the Sage,” Obito puts his other hand on his hips and tips forward slightly as if to say _‘duh’._ “But to a mortal?”

It’s not hard to fill in the answer to that question; that the eyes of a god could lead to consequences for both the bearer and those around them. Nagato doesn’t take his eyes off of him, even if the shift in his body says he wants to. “A shinobi needs to see.”

“But with peace your skills will not be required.”

“I would be no use to my village, and be unable to protect my friends,” Nagato bites back.

“You would hurt them even more if you keep those eyes.”

“Liar,” Nagato takes a step back. “Just because it corrupted you doesn’t mean they will do the same to me.”

His jaw tightens for a moment in annoyance, this isn’t exactly going as planned. (Nagato was so much easier to manipulate in his grief. A part of him thinks of simply taking the eyes now, or coming back and ripping them forcefully from the Uzumaki. But he brushes it away, knows that it won’t do him any good now or later. Although he thinks he’ll care little for this persona after Zetsu has been dealt with. So the need to destroy it because of his part in taking Nagato’s eyes would mean little in comparison to stopping Zetsu.)

“You would doom us all because you don’t trust your friends to take care of themselves?” He shakes his head, the motion dramatic before taking a step that turns his body half away from the boy. “Read the scroll. I’ll be back when Ame is liberated to hear your final decision.”

With that he disappears in a whisking rush of shunshin - best not to use kamui as it’s a distinct enough technique that it would be sure to lead back to him.

(It could have gone better. He recognizes that easily enough, and perhaps when he returns later Nagato will be more willing to understand. Or, maybe, he needs a different approach - a different idea on how to handle the eyes.)

 

 

Perhaps waiting to see Rin and Kakashi would have been a good idea - there is the chance that he will be caught, after all. But he knows that the second the Hokage can he will shove Obito into interrogation, and he’ll be unable to know whether or not any of them are alive in this dimension. Unable to know whether or not coming back to Konoha is _worth_ the trouble of being put under questioning.

He checks her house first, appearing on the roof opposite in a whirl of kamui, chakra suppressed and heart racing.

It’s the same as in his old dimension, and it makes something in his chest tighten. It’s been ages since he has seen it like this; her home having been destroyed during the kyuubi attack. (Only in his dreams has this view graced him, and even then such sweet sights were scattered few and far between his nightmares.) He can remember distinctly the horror he had felt at discovering the building as nothing more than rubble when he had gone to check on it a week after Naruto was born. The sight had only fueled his anger. Given more fuel to his delusional goals.

Now, the quant home stands with no sign of tragedy. Flowers out front, and the bustle of life inside. The street it claims is not cratered or piled with rubble, but quiet, with a few people walking about. Obito shifts his gaze back to the house, sliding lower on his perch until he can slip onto a tree branch without disturbing a single leaf in order to get a better angle. His breath catches as he spots her and her mother come into view of the kitchen window. The entire world disappearing around him in the wake of what he is seeing. Rin’s _alive._ Healthy. _Happy._

He will do anything to make sure she stays that way.

She smiles as she talks with her mother, and Obito thinks that this miscalculated suicide attempt turned into dimensional time travel is a situation that he doesn’t really mind being in.

He waits until she moves out of his view and then a few moments more before slipping away to check on Kakashi. Because the man has always liked to make his life more difficult than it has to be and it would only fit that he would somehow have died already in this world. (He would still stay, for Rin, but a part of him would always ache at the loss. Always feel anger at how a dimension with so much potential could take Kakashi away without giving him the chance to make everything right.)

He searches the training grounds first, side stepping those that he can feel shinobi using. No Kakashi. The river next, and then the academy grounds. But, of course, Kakashi can never make anything easy, and it’s with a sweep past the boy’s empty house and a careful search in the market place that he finally discovers his old teammate.

The boy is carrying groceries, his mask firmly in place - Obito’s only _mildly_ disappointed by this - both expected for location and age.

What isn’t expected is the fact that Minato is walking with him.

He didn’t realize that the two knew each other prior to Minato becoming their sensei, but it makes a sort of sense - seeing how Sakumo and Kushina seemed to be friends it would only stand that the white fang would be on good terms with Konoha’s most promising.

They look good. The both of them. Life suits Minato so much better than death and reanimation ever could. And Kakashi, who has yet to experience the horrors of war and death and loss the way his Kakashi had, seems entirely foreign to him in that moment. He watches them for a single breath more, the shadow of the alleyway he had slipped into keeping his cover for at least that much. But Minato isn’t one of Konoha’s best for nothing; it’s in his interest to not risk discovery so boldly.

So with the comforting knowledge that those he holds precious are _here,_ he lets the rest of his plans fall into place and pulls chakra into his sharingan.

Appearing in the Hokage office using kamui in no way makes it onto his list of good ideas. But he knows for a fact that the shinobi at the gates wouldn’t have let him in, sharingan or no, and an unknown showing up outside the office window wouldn’t be taken well either. At least in this manner the Hokage will realize that he means no harm. Simply because he _could_ have killed the man but _didn’t._ A very controversial way to base any form of trust, but shinobi have never been the straightest forward of people anyway. The deactivation of his sharingan is what earns him enough leeway to step around the weapon bearing ANBU.

“Hokage-sama,” he inclines his head slightly. “Uchiha Obito reporting the completion of your sanctioned training trip to request reassignment into Konoha’s ranks.”

If the man is surprised he doesn’t show it, doesn’t even twitch or stutter in his release of smoke at Obito’s claims.

“You much forgive me my memory,” Sarutobi says, “but it seems I can’t recall an Uchiha with that name other than one much younger than yourself.”

“It would be wise to tell you ANBU to leave before we continue this conversation,” Obito says, moving to sit in one of the chairs positioned before the man’s desk. He does not trust this man, would be more readily inclined to tell Minato all of this. But should he have come back during his old sensei’s reign it would have been too late to fix everything. (Or, more troublesome really, because there would be more factors, and more people to kill. Including his younger self.)

So, even with this distrust, he needs to reveal some form of explanation in order to enter the village. In order to stay and protect Rin and Minato and Kushina and Kakashi.

Hiruzen studies him for a long moment, the look in his eyes one of a man who has calculated each outcome to this situation. He raises his hand and the chakra signatures around him disperse, the feeling of a seal flashing to life follows immediately after.

“Now, would you care to explain?”

“Uchiha Obito,” he says, because even if his younger self is here Naruto worked too hard to give him his name back only to throw it away so soon after. Even for this. (Because he fears that should he give it up again he won’t be able to get it back.) What he says next feels like it was taken out of a bad movie, and perhaps that’s what makes the lie easier, because the truth is just as inconceivable. “My teammate sent me back in time to fix the future.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ello lovely readers,
> 
> So I said different character perspective in the previous chapter so I wouldn’t chicken out of actually writing it in this chapter, so yay! I haven’t! But, yeah, I actually plan to have different perspectives throughout the story, which is pretty strange for me. So this isn’t the only time that this will be happening.
> 
> Anyway, onto the new chapter.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

 

Hiruzen rubs at the tension still growing between his brows, even though Uchiha Obito has been brought off to interrogation the stress of his presence makes something in him feel weary in a way that he hasn’t since Danzo started ROOT. He truly feels his age in times like these, even more so recently considering the steady push towards war with the increasing number of border skirmishes. It makes the thought of a successor tantalizing. (Not yet. Not until the horizon is clear and his shinobi stop coming back in body scrolls so frequently. But, soon.)

Obito’s story seems to promise no end to the tension; a fourth war already being brewed with the third not even started yet. A fourth way that will be nightmarish enough to send someone back in time. Obito hadn’t needed to explain all the horrors for Hiruzen to understand that they had lost. That _all_ the villages had lost. Supposedly, at least, because Obito may have presented Uchiha Madara’s head in a scroll, and may be an Uchiha (no stolen eyes, or genjutsu), but Hiruzen won’t submit to his explanations until further investigation has been done. What else can he do? When Obito makes such impossible claims. When an unknown appears in his office using an undocumented technique making claims of being from the future with enough evidence to support only the explanation of Madara’s survival until now and this Zetsu’s manipulations. What else can he do but draw out every bit of information?

A knock sounds in the room, and with a suppressed sigh he reaches over and picks up his pipe, taking a long breath in to clear his mind before he calls out, “Enter.”

Sakumo walks in, Kushina and Tsume both absent and it makes him raise a questioning brow. Because Obito had mentioned that he ran into this team, and at the time none of them has been injured. Even considering the encounter they had with Iwa shinobi. “I sent them home,” the man explains, “the mission was a success.”

“Their reports will be submitted by tomorrow I hope,” Hiruzen breathes out a swirl of smoke, knowing full well that Kushina and Tsume will take a week to hand over their paperwork.

“As always,” Sakumo says, easy grin trying to suppress his laughter.

He nods, “Report.” It’s instantaneous, Sakumo’s entire demeanor shifting from casual to calm strict formality, as is expected of any shinobi during higher ranked mission reports.

“We encountered no resistance on the way out, the target was found on the north western edge of Lightning, it was placed into a scroll and given to the mission’s desk.” Hiruzen nods at this in order to prompt Sakumo to continue. “We started back on the eleventh day, on the twelfth night we encountered an unknown shinobi crashing into our camp and captured for interrogation. He was unconscious before capture.”

Hiruzen takes his pipe from his mouth, “Describe.”

“Male, short white hair and scarred across the right side of his face. An Uchiha. He had the sharingan activated when he first woke and deactivated them when he realized who I was. The unknown woke three hours into capture,” Sakumo explains. “He called himself Uchiha Obito. During my question Iwa shinobi attacked. Uchiha demonstrated the ability to phase through solid objects and helped Team Hound eliminate the enemy. Uchiha followed us to our next camp and took first watch with me. He said he was on a sanctioned training trip and would return shortly.”

He nods, at the very least Obito hadn’t lied about this portion. Which, he supposes, is for the best seeing as he has already informed Fugaku and Mikoto of the strange Uchiha’s arrival. To which they have reported there was no records of his existence. Although that would match with his claims of time travel, it could also just be the result of an Uhciha having an illegitimate son.

“And,” Sakumo continues, prompting Hiruzen to look up and meet his gaze. “His sharingan was strange. I’ve never seen any like them before, and neither has Kushina.”

The headache can’t get much worse, he thinks (hopes), because of course this will be getting back to the council somehow. An unknown Uchiha with an unknown stage of the sharingan - how could it possibly _not_ cause a stir? And even with the Uchiha clan head working with him it’s going to turn into a political mess no matter how he plays it.

“Your opinion of him?”

Sakumo frowns thoughtfully, the first sign of emotion during the report, “He seemed sad, like he lost something important to him and with it a piece of himself. And… he said it was a miscalculation that he ended up in Lighting, but I think he was referring to the fact he was alive,” Sakumo pauses. “You didn’t send him out on a training trip, did you?”

He must say that Sakumo never fails to impress with his quick wit and incites, but in this instance such a thing can lead to hindrances.

“I did, my boy,” Hiruzen rises to his feet to overlook Konoha. “But you must remember that nothing is ever as it seems.”

“Hokage-sama?”

“Dismissed,” he says instead of further explanations, making it clear that the topic is not for discussion, but with enough information to leave both curiosity and the knowledge that it is unadvised to look any deeper. “I want you written report in tomorrow, and do try to convince your teammates to do the same.”

“No promises.” Sakumo eases out of his rigid posture before disappearing in a burst of shunshin, leaving the window wide open on his way out and letting in the growing chill of autumn.

He doesn’t move to close it, instead standing there, pipe in hand as he overlooks his village down below. Watching the way the sunlight hits the rooftops and his people move about their daily lives without a single hint of the stress building just outside Konoha’s walls. There is little he wouldn’t do to protect this, the peace, however tentative and shallow.

He makes a hand sign, subtle enough to go unnoticed but his ANBU appears all the same. “Bring me Uchiha Fugaku.”

With a swirl of chakra the shinobi is gone.

 

 

 

The worst part of interrogation is that it’s boring. He’s been asked the same questions so many times that he almost feels offended. Do they really think he’s so stupid as to not be able to remember what he told them the first twenty times?

Yes, he’s from the future.

Yes, his name is Uchiha Obito.

No, he isn’t lying.

No, he isn’t a spy.

Yes, his sharingans are real.

Yes, he knows that his blood results show he isn’t a full Uchiha. It’s because of the experiments that Madara put him through.

Yes, Madara was really alive.

Yes, he really killed him, and that really is his head in that scroll. Didn’t they test the DNA already?

Even the Uchiha clan head coming in to talk with him was nothing but monotonous repetition on clan secrets.

It is _frustrating_. There are so many more things he could be doing right now rather than being cooped up in this room and answering question after question. He could be hunting down Zetsu, taking out Hanzo with the original Akatsuki, or warning the smaller nations. Perhaps even farming and offering food to those who need it in the poorer villages that have suffered under their daimyo’s rule or due to the wars that shinobi wage.

But he’s stuck here, answering to three of them who have rotated out each day for the past ten days; Inoichi first, Shikaku next, and then Fugaku. They look at him with blank faces, but Obito can see the skepticism, knows that they don’t believe him in the slightest. (He can’t really blame them - time travel and a destroyed world are not something that people experience every day.) And he knows their technique. Knows that asking these questions repeatedly isn’t to make him slip up and answer differently, it’s to see if he answers the exact same each time, because the truth can shift every time you tell it - slightly, as all stories tend to do. But a lie, especially one that a spy or infiltrator needs to maintain, will stay stagnant to a fault. It’s why the best lies always have some truth in them, because those are the little details that you can balance out and change. If the same is tried with a lie it becomes easier to catch it, because one mistake - one moment of laps in memory, or one hint that what they’ve changed doesn’t make sense - and the lie is over.

It’s still boring enough that if they hadn’t slapped chakra repressions seals onto him he would have ducked out of the room three days ago. But he doesn’t, because Rin is alive and so is Kakashi and they are incentive enough to get through the hours of being confined to such a small space.

It’s Inoichi that breaks his cycle of boredom this time, the Yamanaka coming in with a scroll in hand that immediately catches his attention, because this is the first time that they have brought anything with them into the room.

The scroll is placed in front of him and unrolled.

“Uchiha Obito, formerly ANBU, returned from undercover mission written off as a training trip, to be reinstated as jounin of Konohagakure immediately upon meeting with the Hokage,” Inoichi summarizes neatly as Obito scans over the information. So they believe him. Interesting. “When you’re done memorizing that come to Hokage-sama’s office.”

With that the man moves around the table and Obito feels his chakra for the first time in ten days; the rush of energy makes the bundle of discomfort sitting in his stomach unfurl. He disappears in a whirl of kamui for no other reason than because he _can,_ taking Inoichi with him only because showing up without the man will prolong whatever conversation the Sandaime wants to have.

Even as it earns him a glare from the Yamanaka when they find themselves in the office moments later, “A little warning next time,” Inoichi grits out, and Obito doesn’t bother feeling even remotely shamed at the slightly nauseous glint in the man’s eyes.

“So nice of you to join us,” Hiruzen greets from his seat behind the Hokage desk, stacks of files, scrolls, and paper work littering his office. “Please, have a seat. There’s much to discuss.”

Obito scans the room as he moves to one of the chairs in front of the man, taking in the lack of ANBU presence and the way the window curtains have been drawn.

“I’m afraid you’re a bit early, my boy,” he says, “not everyone has arrived yet.”

“Who else are we expecting?” Obito asks, but suspects he knows already.

“The usual crowd,” Hiruzen answers, moving a few papers around as if he could ever make the mess on his desk into something resembling orderly. “They should all arrive shortly.”

‘Shortly’ apparently means not for another ten minutes, and to a civilian that would seem an adequate depiction of such a time frame yet, to a shinobi it is anything but. However, he has no room to complain, so he sits and watches as Shikaku enters followed closely by Fugaku and finally Mikoto.

“Welcome,” Hiruzen says, “take a seat so we can get started.”

Mikoto gives him an assessing once over, and it’s then that Obito realizes it’s perhaps the first time that the woman has actually _seen_ him since his arrival in Konoha. His interrogation had been closed, meaning no mirror backed by a viewing room for spectators. Only those present in the cramped space would ever know what was being said exactly, and she had never participated in any lines of questioning. (Her eyes seem almost sad if he looks at them long enough, like what they see in Obito’s scars and harsh demeanor makes her pained. He doesn’t think about it much.)

The moment passes, however, and her attention shifts to the Hokage as everyone else’s has already done. There is the flair of a seal, and the meeting commences.

“We are here to discuss the integration of Uchiha Obito,” the Hokage starts. “The contents of this meeting are to be held at the highest level of security and not to be talked about outside the walls of this office. Understood?”

“Hai, Hokage-sama,” the group around him choruses while he simply nods his head. Because Hiruzen may be the current leader of this village but he isn’t _Obito’s._

“Good.” The man’s pipe is placed down, “Then let’s begin. Inoichi.”

The Yamanka doesn’t stand up, but his spine becomes longer with the address, “Uchiha Obito, shinobi of Konohagakure travelled back in time about twenty-three years through efforts of his teammate and sharingan. To be given identity of Uchiha Obito, former ANBU returned from a training trip that acts as a cover for an infiltration mission.” Obito has to give the minds of Konoha credit, they know how to make it hard for someone to find out the truth. With two layers of information to get through, and the second layer being convoluted with misleading information, it will become harder for Danzo or anyone else to find out who he really is. “To be reinstated as a jounin effective immediately. Under order of Hokage he is to track down and destroy any catalyst leading to the fourth shinobi war.”

“Thank you, Inoichi.” Hiruzen turns to the remaining members of the gathering, “There is still the issue of housing, and creating a history. The council will not be satisfied with the files we have managed to forge for long.”

“He will stay in the compound,” Fugaku states, as if the answer to that particular predicament is a given. And although Obito wants to snap out that _no_ he _won’t_ be staying in the compound, and that he would be perfectly fine finding his own residence, he knows that he has no choice. The political support of the entire Uchiha clan, as well as the fact it would be expected of him after being away for so long makes it impossible to actually refuse. Well, not _impossible,_ more that it wouldn’t be ideal and would put too much suspicion on him too soon.

Still, it leaves a taste in his mouth that is too close to blood for his liking.

“And the paperwork?” Should someone get past the first layer, goes unsaid.

There are many ways to deal with this, in fact, it’s actually fairly common for a shinobi to come back from a mission without any paperwork to their name at all beyond a the barest of files - and to have those classified. All because of those missions that strictly require no possible means by which to trace its origins back to Konoha. Which means all evidence of that individual’s existence within the village must be destroyed and what little remains classified to the highest degree possible - for Hokage eyes only. But Uchiha who have activated their sharingan don’t often go on those missions, (and even if they haven’t gained their kekkai genkai it is not common as there is always the possibility that they might) because their eyes are equal parts recognizable and too powerful of assets to be so easily put into the reach of the enemy. (In fact, this is the case for most clans. For missions like these it is more common to use those shinobi without any kekkai genkai or a recognizable name. That’s the brilliance in their system - those who are powerful and have flashy techniques enough to make it into the bingo books are a front to the true underground workings, or backbone, of the village - the second line of defense that comes from skilled tokubetsu and chuunin taking up missions for undercover work.)

In other words, they have backed themselves into corner.

“I died.” Or, have they?

Hiruzen leans forward onto his desk, fingers steepled and an interested glint carefully hidden in his gaze, “Explain.”

“I was placed on a mission with Uchiha Mikoto ten years ago to infiltrate a base in Iwa and steal several scrolls, in order to protect Konoha from any backlash and potential spies it was marked down as a training trip. However, we were ambushed and only she made it out. Instead of dying I was rescued by Madara and Zetsu.”

(It’s close. So very close to what actually happened that the bitter taste of those memories sits like ash on his tongue. But it also makes it easier, because then his past will hold enough truth that whatever lies he tells will be more believable.)

Shikaku hums thoughtfully, “It would account for the length of time you were away and why you have Hashirama’s cells.”

“It would require only the minimum amount of paperwork,” Inoichi leans forward in his seat.

“And without knowing whether you were alive or captured it would have been in the best interest to destroy all records of your mission.” Hiruzen finished.

“But that doesn’t explain why no one recognizes him,” Shikaku points out. “Ten years isn’t enough time to simply forget someone.”

“No,” Obito agrees, “but it’s enough time for those who know that person to die.”

“Orphan, then,” the Nara nods, “no siblings or close relatives to take you in.”

“No.” All eyes turn to Mikoto, her face set in stone, “The Uchiha clan has already built a family history for him and archived it.” She rises to her feet, a scroll passing between her and the Hokage.

“You should have consulted us first,” Hiruzen tells the woman, although his gaze is steady and tone lacks any true reprimand as he scans over the parchment.

“With all due respect, Hokage-sama,” Mikoto says, head held high, “his history is a clan matter and we thought it justified to deal with it as such.”

The Hokage glances down at the scroll and then back up at Mikoto with a sigh, “Very well. I see no reason not to approve.”

The scroll is passed over to Shikaku and Obito watches in rapt curiosity as the man’s eyebrow slowly rises with each line he reads, when he seems to reach the end the Nara lets out a snort, “You said you already archived this?”

Mikoto nods, a fiercely pleased look on her face that Obito _knows_ means she’s done something that won’t go along with his owns plans. She takes the scroll back before it can reach him, “You’ll see it later, Obito-kun.” The smile she sends his way would have made Madara pause.

 

 

 

Walking through the Uchiha compound is surreal. Not because of the stares he receives, or the whispers that follow him all the way to the main house. No, it’s because he can recall so keenly the way it looked covered in blood and bodies. Ones that he had helped put there - in more ways than one, and more ways than Sasuke ever knew.

The peace is what makes him feel so out of place. The peace in the village and the peace in the compound. He has spent practically all his life at war. From the time he graduated the academy until he chose his death a mere eleven days ago.

The third war will start soon, of course, and all the splendor and calm of peacetime will melt away under its flames. But the tension won’t leak into the forces and civilians for another few weeks, perhaps months, at least and by then Obito would have taken care of the bigger shadows in this conflict.

“Tea?” Mikoto’s soft question brings with it the smell of herbs and hot water.

“No, thank you.” He tries for polite, because Mikoto had always been kind to him back when he was younger and the clan thought he was nothing more than a nuisance.

“Oh, that’s right, you never were fond of it.” Mikoto nods as if this confirms a fact, placing two cups instead of three on the table.

He doesn’t bother correcting her. There are no problems with tea that he can find, just the reflex of not wanting to face the potential of poison. But by the look in her eyes and the easy excuse perhaps she already made the connection.

“Who knows?” Fugaku asks as his wife settles next to him, “Besides the people in that room, who knows?”

“The Hokage didn’t tell you?” Obito returns the man’s blank gaze.

“Evidently not.”

“No one,” Obito says. “Although he wants to inform Jiraiya.”

“You’re against the idea.” Mikoto picks up her cup, sipping at the liquid inside.

“The less who know the better,” he says simply. “I convinced him to hold off, but I can’t say for how long.”

Fugaku nods at this, “I will back you up. Jiraiya may be powerful but he can also be a fool.” He lifts his cup to create a pause in their discussion, a signal to the change of topic if nothing else. “The elders will want to know what your gift can do.”

Gift? _That’s_ what they’re calling it now? A voice in the back of his mind that sounds distinctly like Rin when she’s being logical says that killing the clan head isn’t a good idea.

“I don’t care what the elders want,” Obito smiles sharply, eyes a steely warning. (Really he would cut ties completely with the clan if not for the distinct political advantage in having them at his back.)

“You are a member of this clan,” Fugaku tells him flatly. “As such you are to follow the decisions of your elders.”

Obito’s growing scowl gives his voice a vicious tone, “They’re nothing but a bunch of power-hungry shinobi wash-outs that will sell the clan to war for their own ambitions and pride. I won’t bend to the wills of such fools.”

“Be that as it may.” The man’s lips twitch at Obito’s assessment, “They still hold sway in political and clan matters.”

“You are the _clan head_ ,” he says, leaning forward as if to press the point in physically as well. “Grow a spine and face them with the authority your stuffy traditions talk about.”

“ _Our_ traditions,” Fugaku presses.

“I may have accepted this name but this clan has never been and never will be mine,” he tells the man, meeting dark eyes with an even darker gaze. Daring the man to dispute. Daring the man to not see the meaning resting in those words.

“You’re using us,” Fugaku states. There is no emotion to his voice, no surprise or anger that Obito half expected; a hit to their pride like this and the other it promises can’t be taken well.

“You should’ve expected such tactics to be mutual.” He doesn’t let himself look away. The Uchiha have always been good at taking advantage of a potential tool. Obito is no different. He is a political and social pawn. An Uchiha with Senju blood and mokuton is a priceless asset that can raise their status and sway in the village. Obito is not blind to this, and it is best he makes that known. That he makes it known he has no intentions of bending to their wills, and playing their games.

He doesn’t expect the huff that would be laughter on anyone else. “Telling the elders how you activated your eyes will hold them off for longer.” The words shock him more than he wants to admit. He thought there would be more of a fight.

All the same he holds back a snort; he has to give Fugaku credited for his forethought. He _knew_ that Obito wouldn’t be willing to give out such sensitive information so soon - what shinobi would? So he pushed for it and then pulled back in the hopes that the more lenient request would prompt him to answer. Or, maybe he is just overthinking this? Looking so underneath the underneath that he’s lost in what _he_ would do. Besides, it’s not a horrible compromise if Obito is being honest. The information is most likely logged in his less-classified interrogation records anyway.

“I watched someone I care about die,” he says flatly, meticulously wiping all emotion from his face and voice. “My old teammate.”

A hand coming to rest atop his own makes him jerk with the suppressed motion of defense that instinct tells him is needed. Mikoto’s eyes are earnest as they meet his, “We’re sorry for your loss, Obito.”

The last time he heard those words was from Zetsu and not nearly in as sincere a tone. It makes his breath catch and heart squeeze because that’s truly what these eyes represent. A loss. A sorrow. Something that, he now knows, can never truly be regained. (The Rin of this time isn’t _his_ Rin. Isn’t the Rin that _he_ fell in love with all those years ago, and swore to bring back through the Moon Eye Plan.) And to hear it out loud, from someone else, brings it all together in so much sharper a relief than his own thoughts ever could.

Her hand clenches softly in support before retreating. And it’s then that the feeling of chakra signatures brushing against his senses breaks the mood. Signatures that don’t quite belong. It lets him focus on something that isn’t the ache in his chest.

“Is there anything else?” He taps a short pattern against the table.

“If you had troubled yourself to write more we wouldn’t be keeping you so long,” Mikoto tells him with a stern look. Her finger taps once against the side of her cup, “You worried your brother sick before he passed you know.”

“What?” Obito can’t quite keep himself from saying it, because this was not part of his plan. Unless…

“Yes, Kagami visited from time to time asking if we had heard from you,” Fugaku lifts his tea to take a sip, covering up whatever expression is threatening to slip onto his face.

Obito narrows his eyes slightly, there are only two dead Uchihas with that name that he knows. Surely they aren’t planning what he thinks they are.

“You have a nephew, you know. He’s doing well, he even started the academy already,” Mikoto picks up the conversation. “And now that you’ve returned I won’t need to worry so much over him.” She truly knows how to use a situation to her advantage. And from the looks of it Fugaku is in full support.

“My nephew,” Obito says faintly. Because no. _No,_ they are _not_ allowed to do this. And with ROOT agents listening in there is no way he can outright refuse relations, especially considering the sneaking suspicion that this is why she hadn’t let him look at his archived history before. (He supposes it would make sense that she would think to do this. But it makes seeing her and knowing his part in her death that much worse.)

“Although things might get confusing for a bit.” She smiles at him, all sweet threat and kind intensity that warns him into silence. “You two share a name, after all.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ello lovely readers,  
> So this chapter was weird to write and didn't in anyway follow what I had been planning so yay! But anyway, I hope you all enjoy and I am so so sorry for how long this took to get up, and I really would like to promise faster updates but with finals I can't - at least not for the month of december. Once January hits I'll have so much time to write that it should speed up a bit!  
> Anyway, onto the new chapter!

Mikoto makes him pick up his younger-self from the academy right after their meeting ends. Apparently they already told him the news of his uncle that the clan had thought dead returning to the village. All to make sure he can’t back out. She even goes so far as to walk with him to the academy, picking up groceries along the way that a clone brings back.

“He was so excited when we told him,” Mikoto says.

“I can imagine,” he murmurs, eyeing her with a sidelong glance, because he can recall the pain of loneliness. Of having no parents and no one to support him. Can recall how bright a sun Rin had been to him for the reason that he had no other.

“I’m sorry to do this,” Mikoto tells him softly enough that he believes she means it. “It must be strange being here,” she continues, eyes still on the building’s doors. “And now to have to take care of him as well. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t regret doing this. I only want you to know that I realize what I’m asking isn’t easy. I just didn’t want him to grow up alone.”

He lets out a soft snort, so that’s why she was always asking him for favors and help with chores. It explains why she wanted him to babysit and always smiled so kindly when everyone else would only sneer. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“It took you this long to figure it out, didn’t it?”

“I was never the smartest child,” he tells her as the bell rings to let out the classes.

Mikoto hums, “I thought you were quite bright.”

“It’s the orange.” He spots his old goggles bobbling amongst the crowd.

And, of course, Rin is not far out of reach from his younger-self, smiling and laughing, alive and happy - just as he had seen her when he first arrived. But there’s something more. More because she is with the Obito who hasn’t lost her yet. And it is _that,_ above all else, that settles the realization this isn’t _his_ Rin. His fists clench painfully, if it weren’t for wearing gloves he would bleed. It’s all he can do to keep himself from saying her name, even in a whisper.

This isn’t his Rin. Not the one that he grew up with. Not the one he lost.

It makes something swell in his chest at the same time as something else seems to shatter. Some disillusion that he tucks away to think about later.

“Mikoto-sama!” His younger-self cries out. The excitement in a voice that he remembers as his own makes his skin crawl. The boy practically tumbles over his own feet to reach them. Smiling so wide that Obito’s own face hurts just looking at it. Large eyes, that haven’t killed, stare up at him with curiosity when the boy comes to a halt. “Who’s the old guy?”

“I’m not old.” Obito’s defense goes ignored as Mikoto takes a step forward.

“Obito,” she says with a smile, the warm one that he barely recalls. “I’d like you to meet your uncle.”

Those dark eyes go wide with a light in them that he hasn’t seen in what feels like a lifetime. It’s strange, truly, like watching a movie or seeing his life flash before him. He could crush that hope, that wild innocence. It would be so easy. But he doesn’t _want_ to. Even if his is younger-self is so open that it hurts.

“You’re my uncle?” And his nose scrunches up, eyes narrowing as if squinting will help him pass judgement.

“I am,” he says, reigning in his emotions. “Uchiha Obito.”

The eyes widen again, “You really do have the same name as me.”

“Your father wasn’t particularly imaginative,” Obito snorts, because it’s the only excuse he has.

“You knew my father?” And there is wonder in his eyes now, tentative and hopeful. Hunger, too. The kind that all orphans have when there is mention of their parents.

“He was my older brother,” he lies. Lets it settle over him like a proper truth - he’s always been the best at lying to himself, after all. “His name was Kagami.”

“You mean like Shisui’s dad?”

Obito shakes his head, “No.”

“Oh.” And some of that light dims as Obito offers no further insight. But it’s back, just as fast, grin following, “Well, I’m Uchiha Obito and one day I’m going to be Hokage and everyone will recognize me!”

He knows he shouldn’t make the comparison, shouldn’t even let himself for a moment see Naruto in the boy that stands before him. Because how can a candle hold up against the brightness of the sun?

Yet, there are similarities in their dream and the way an orphan looks on any potential for affection with equal parts hope and fear. It’s what has him squatting down to be eye-level with a him that isn’t him. Because all he can see is a blonde boy, with _‘become Hokage at all costs,’_ and _‘we share a dream,’_ echoing in his mind.

“I’m sure you’ll make a great Hokage.”

The words burn over his tongue and swamp his chest in acid. The beaming smile he receives does nothing to drown the feeling of _wrong_ _._ He knows that he would have done anything to hear those words when he was this young, but here and now they feel like a lie beyond any he has ever spun.

“You really think so?” The question comes with a sudden rush to cover up such insecurity, “I mean, of course I will, I’ll be the best Hokage! I’ll even surpass the first and second, just you watch!”

His chest is tight, head pounding the rhythm of his erratic heart, and his breath is caught somewhere between. Painful is the only word to describe the panicked rush in his veins. This is who he used to be, this is what he had been when Rin believed in him, this is the boy that gained her friendship. He forces his throat to swallow the dryness in his mouth. This is not him as he is now; a patchwork monster with too much blood on his hands and not enough life left to in him to redeem. (Yet he has to try; try for _her_ , and try for Naruto.)

“You have an ambitious dream there.” A voice sounds that snaps him from those thoughts and has Obito rising to his feet to be on more even ground with one Hatake Sakumo. All he can think about for a second is the flak jacket that is spattered in blood, with holes where vital organs should be, laid out in his kamui dimension.

“So?” His younger-self’s cheeks puff out. “You think I can’t do it?”

Sakumo holds his hands up in a gesture of placating, “You’ll have to work hard to take the hat.” The smile the man offers is confident and well-meaning, even if it’s lazy enough that Obito can’t help but think of Kakashi. “The academy is a good start.”

“Hatake-san,” Obito greats, as his younger-self tries to sort through the understanding that another person is supporting his dream.

“Call me Sakumo, Hatake-san makes me feel old.” His smile seems only brighter as it’s turned on him. “It’s good to see you made it back to the village safe.”

“As safe as any shinobi” Obito’s hand goes to rest against the back of his neck, “Although I can’t say the same for your flak jacket.”

There’s a glint in Sakumo’s eyes - the same one as when he told Obito that he was attractive - and Obito braces himself for the man’s response. “Don’t worry about it. Purple suits you better, anyway.” Sakumo winks, _winks,_ when he finishes his sentence. Obito can feel his face starting to heat up, even at how simple it is. At how it _shouldn't make him blush._ Shouldn’t be able to make _anyone_ blush. A reply is on the tip of his tongue. One that is never said as it becomes drowned by a small, small voice that Obito knows but doesn’t.

“Dad.”

“Kakashi!” Obito loses whatever happens next, as it all becomes too much. Seeing Rin up close had been painful, like an ideal shattering. His younger-self is bitter. Looking at something that he can never be again. But Kakashi was _alive_ last time he saw him within arms-reach. And this Kakashi has no recognition in grey eyes. There is no disbelief, or hurt, or trauma of losing again and again. From a distance Obito could ignore the absence. But here it’s sinking in fast that he truly is out of his time.

It should be relieving. It should solidify that him killing Madara hadn’t been a dream. Instead it hurts. Aches with a fury that tastes too much like blood.

Kakashi who he failed, who he tried to kill. Kakashi. Kakashi that only gave him a passing glance because he has a _father._ One that is alive and Obito can’t _breathe._

He takes a step back. The scene before him feels too much like he’s intruding - a precious moment. All the moments where Kakashi still has such innocence is precious, and Obito will only tarnish that. He takes two more.

Then there is a hand fisting into his shirt, the purple fabric pulling tight under the pressure. It has him looking down.

“Mikoto-sama said you might be bad at talking to people because you’ve been gone for so long,” his younger-self says, brows furrowing as if trying to put together how the two add up. “She said I’d have to help you with that,” and here the boy’s face fills with determination. “I don’t really know how, but I promise to try my best.”

The boy doesn’t point out the way Obito had been retreating - and although his conclusions on why is wrong, it still stands that he was backing away. Obvious enough that even an untrained child took notice. And his words are quiet, potentially enough so that they won’t carry to their companions.

A candle.

Rin is no longer _his_ light, and Naruto isn’t around in this time to be his guiding sun. But a candle, when lit in the dark, can make the whole world shift.

He doesn’t take another step back, and Obito can tell that his younger-self counts that as the victory it is, giving him a blinding smile. He’s just a child, only eight at the moment. Obito can’t place his hopes in someone so young, but his younger-self will help at the least.

“Hey, since you’ve been gone so long, does this mean you’ll be living with me?” Obito blinks at the abrupt change in topics. The louder volume at which the question is spoken also grabs everyone else’s attention.

“I-,” he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. He remembers an empty house at the edge of the compound with two bedrooms. One of which remains empty ever since his grandmother had left once he started the academy. Remembers a small kitchen that grew mold during his genin days, and a wall of pictures depicting his team.

“He’ll take the other bedroom,” Mikoto interferes, and Obito _knows_ the woman had planned all of this. “If that’s okay with you, Obito-kun.”

“Yeah!” The boy agrees easily, practically vibrating in his excitement.

“Wait,” Sakumo looks between them, “you’re both named Obito?”

“My brother couldn’t think of a better name apparently.”

“Isn’t it hard to tell who someone’s talking to?” Kakashi asks, arms crossing in front of his chest.

“I’ve been out of the village for a while,” Obito tells the boy, trusting that Kakashi can put the pieces together.

“That doesn’t change the fact it’s confusing _now,_ ” Kakashi shoots back, a look on the portion of his face showing that says he thinks Obito is being slow. It’s not a new look, really.

He opens his mouth to banter back, because even after all these years it’s near automatic, but his younger-self beats him to the line.

“Well, then just call me Obi if it hurts your brain so much!” Silence settles over the young Hatake at this.

“Obito,” he says, trying to gauge whether or not his younger-self is truly okay with this. (A selfish part of him, the part that desperately wants to keep his name, sighs in relief.)

“It’s Obi when we’re together,” the boy says stubbornly. But Obito knows himself, even if he has changed, he still remembers being an orphan and having only his name as connection to his parents.

“I don’t think me calling you Obito will confuse anyone,” he says.

It starts out with a sniffle, eyes going wide and face so open that he can see every flicker of emotion. And that’s when the tears come, there aren’t many, and really Obito is surprised it took this long for them to appear.

Obi is quick to wipe them away, jacket scrapping over his eyes seconds before his goggles slip down from his forehead. “There’s just some dirt in my eyes is all,” the boy gets out, and Obito doesn’t question it. Neither does he question the way a hand still fists into his shirt, nor how it tightens.

“But there’s no wi-.” Kakashi is cut off by Sakumo’s hand coming down to rest on his head. The boy glances at his father with a confused look, but doesn't continue his sentence.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Sakumo tells them, looking directly at Obito with that sentence. “But we need to start heading home.”

Kakashi perks up at that, “Can I train tonight?”

“You just got out of the academy, don’t you want to spend some time with you dad?”

“We could train together,” Kakashi offers. Sakumo merely sighs at the response, tossing a wave over his shoulder as the two walk down the street.

Some things never change, Obito thinks with a mental snort.

There’s a tug on his shirt and when he looks down it’s to find a hopeful looking Obi. “Can we train too?” There is a smile on his lips, but it’s tentative even through its wide stretch.

Obito hesitates at first, because extra training now could mean Obi would graduate at a higher level in his class and not end up on Team Seven. But graduation is only a few months away and he had been so helpless at this age that any extra training now would hardly make the difference in his opinion. Besides, he could always convince the Hokage to keep their team the same if it really came down to it.

“I’ll teach you some traps and we can work on stealth,” Obito offers.

“Alright! I’ll kick that Bakashi’s butt next time for sure!” Fist pumping into the air follows the excited cheer, and Obito hides his snort behind a choked back cough.

 

 

 

Obi’s uncle is weird. That’s the conclusion that he’s come to after spending the rest of the night by Obito’s side. The white hair, for one thing. Uchiha don’t _have_ white hair, not unless they’re old, and his uncle is younger than his dad was which means he can’t be _that_ old. And the way that he looks at the Uchiha compound the same way that the Uchiha look at Obi makes him wonder. The Uchiha are a loyal clan; family ties are everything to them. Even Obi, who is the black sheep, is not moved entirely from the compound. So why would his Uncle hold any anger towards the Uchiha? Any disgust?

And then there’s the training. Not that the exercises were weird or anything, but the emphasis that his uncle puts on teamwork is. How everything can work better on a team, how this trap would work with a team combination, how a team could hide together in this way or that. It’s _strange._

He also never deactivates his sharingan. Most Uchiha, from what Obi has seen, won’t keep it active for nearly as long as his uncle does - something to do with damaging eyesight. His uncle’s sharingan is also _weird._ It’s not the normal tomoe pattern, but something else entirely and when Obi asked his uncle had waved him off, saying it was something that he would never have to concern himself with.

At the same time his uncle is the _best._ He seems to know exactly which parts confuse Obi and what to explain more on and how. Even the academy teachers can’t do that. Which only serves to make him even weirder, but Obi is fast coming to the conclusion that weird isn’t a bad thing.

“Obito,” his uncle calls down the hall, “we’re going to be late.”

There is no concern in his uncle’s voice - something else to add to his growing list. Back when his grandmother lived with him she had always been lecturing him about the importance of getting everywhere on time. But Obito doesn't seem concerned at all that the academy starts soon and they haven’t even begun the walk over. It’s a refreshing change from the usual disdainful glances and sharp remarks. It just makes him appreciate that _this_ is his uncle even more.

He grabs his weapons pouch, and heads out his room in a rush - just because his uncle doesn’t sound concerned doesn’t mean he should push his luck. Obito said he would walk him to and from the academy whenever he had the chance and Obi isn’t about to take that for granted by making him wait.

“I’m ready, I’m ready!” He skids past the kitchen and towards the door, pulling on his shoes in a hopping rush as his uncle watches him, already set to go. There’s a strange look on his face, like nostalgia but more bitter. Obi doesn’t really understand it, but it disappears as they move towards the door so he pushes it out of his mind.

“Sensei said we were going to learn about bomb tags and flashbangs today,” he starts in excitement as they make their way out of the compound.

His uncle hums before coming to a stop, eyes locked on something in the crowd. Obi tries to follow his gaze but can’t find anything that would catch anyone’s attention. A clone pops into existence, and it says something about their village and the people in it that not even the civilians react to the jutsu.

“My clone will take you the rest of the way,” his uncle tells him, the clone already herding him down another street - the longer way to the academy, Obi notes. When he tries to look back to find his uncle he’s already gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ello lovely readers,  
> Wow… um so I’m alive? Like, seriously sorry for the wait and all that. I started a new semester and a new job so the wait won’t exactly shorten… Anyway, it took me a while to get this chapter out and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it all but I hope you like it! Obito may be a bit out of character, or at least he feels that way to me and I haven’t been able to fix it. So if any of you can help explain it Please tell me!  
> Anyway, onto the new chapter!  
> UPDATED AND RE-POSTED 1/28/2018

Obito understood that coming back to Konoha meant he’d need to face the issue of Orochimaru. He just hadn’t realized it would be so soon. The snake is a few yards ahead of him, and Obito isn’t naive, nor stupid enough to believe they’re in this part of Konoha for any other reason than to seek him out. It makes it easier, he supposes, to decide what to do this early on. It makes it easier to decide where to step and where to avoid with future plans.

It all comes down to a matter of facts, really. Namely that Orochimaru is useful as an ally, regardless of whether or not he's in the village. But that if he were in the village it would be easier to keep an eye on him and less of a risk to capitalize on his skill set. Although Obito doubts he'll need it. The last fact, and the one that will weigh the most, is that Obito doesn’t  _know_ what Orochimaru is like at this point in time let alone in this dimension. Regardless of the fact that the majority of other things have stayed the same - at least what he has seen so far - he can’t be entirely sure that the Orochimaru he knows is the same as this one. He doesn't know if the snake has allied himself with Danzo and ROOT yet, or if there is still some semblance of restraint to his experiments.

These facts will determine the outcome. These and the fact that Obito hasn’t been in the business of saving people beyond Rin for so long that he doesn’t really know  _how_ to go about it the same way Naruto does. But he promised he would  _try._ That he would try and be better, try and change. He swore to Rin that he would do his best. Despite the fact that he can’t bring himself to care about the person themselves as much as his promise. As if they are simply another means to an end in proving to himself that this is a promise he will finally keep. As if Orochimaru is nothing more to him than another step to be taken. (If he is even worth that step at all.)

The conversation he is about to have with the snake will mean little, really. Because Orochimaru isn’t stupid enough to give anything away, and even if he  _does_ it won’t tell Obito as much as searching his labs will. It will be more about making a statement than anything else. About showing the snake he won’t back down, or avoid him simply because he holds the title of sannin.

It is part of the reason Obito initiates the interaction, “Orochimaru, it’s an honor.” That and because approaching the snake first can gain an advantage in allowing Obito to set the tone. It will also seem more natural compared to a famed shinobi approaching a relatively unknown Uchiha. As well as take into account the way Orochimaru was eying him like a predator trying to figure out the best approach. “I’m Uchiha Obito.”

“So it’s true, there is a white haired Uchiha in the village.” Orochimaru turns at his greeting, posture purposefully relaxed.

“Rumors?” Obito raises an eyebrow, “And here I thought Hokage-sama sent you to watch me.”  It’s an open invitation to explain himself, and also a pointed threat that Obito isn’t so inexperienced as to not notice when he’s being observed.

“There’s been talk of an Uchiha with strange eyes, who caught the attention of the white fang and red hot habanero.” Orochimaru side steps the comment. “It caught my interest.”

“Enough to bring you here?”

“I thought I’d see for myself.” The snake tilts his head to the side, swaths of black hair shifting with the motion. “But it seems you’re sharingan is no different than the others.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Obito tells him, but the flat tone leaves no mistake about his lack of sincerity.

Orochimaru waves his false apology away, “Rumors can be as deceiving as they are useful. It must be strange, though, to have everyone’s attention when no one knew you before.”

The probe is not nearly as underhand as he thought it would be, but then again the snake hasn’t tried for subtly yet. “I haven’t noticed,” Obito speaks honestly, because he  _hasn’t_ really. He thought the stares were from his scars and white hair more than the fact he grabbed and still holds the interest of prominent shinobi. Not to mention, he’s been in interrogation for the past ten days. It’s a surprise that such interest has lasted this long.

“You haven’t noticed,” Orochimaru sniffs with a raised eyebrow.

Obito crosses his arms, going for a defensive stance, because he knows that most shinobi would find offense in that statement. “I figured it was the scars.”

It’s taboo, to an extent, to ask about another shinobi’s scars. Even when they bring it up themselves the topics are normally skirted around, because scars have stories and stories for shinobi normally involve physical and psychological pains. So it’s an unspoken social rule amongst those that live in a shinobi village to never question scars, nor stare too long. But those that are as severe as Obito’s tend to gain a second look no matter the etiquette. He can’t even say he’s grown used to it, either, because he spent most of the past decades hiding his face behind a mask - only Zetsu, and Kisame ever seeing it before he revealed himself during the fourth war. So the stares are something he feels like a weight against his shoulders, constant and ever nagging. No shinobi likes the feeling of eyes on them, after all.

(They have eyes on them now, too. And not just from ANBU or ROOT members, but from those around them; the merchants, and civilians, and fellow shinobi that walk the streets. There are curious gazes, and hostile ones. Those that are drawn to them out of a question, and those that are drawn out of fear.)

Orochimaru skims his gaze briefly over the side of Obito’s face before they return to his eyes. He doesn’t say sorry, and there is no pity on his face or sympathy. Only acceptance that this is part of their job description, and Obito is grudgingly thankful.

“It must have been difficult to find medical attention so far from Konoha.”

Obito holds in a snort, because  _of course_ the snake would focus on that. “You have no idea,” he says, hand almost unconsciously moving to brush against his face. “I got them fairly soon after leaving, it was a freak accident really.”

“Not the best way to start a training trip.”

The comment would be casual if it was anyone else who said it in any other context. But it’s Orochimaru. Orochimaru who had one of his gathered rumors supposedly proven wrong previously. So it’s anything but casual. In fact, Obito is almost positive that the snake is trying to test now which rumors are real and whether or not Obito had lied earlier about his eyes.

“No, it wasn’t.” Obito purposefully shifts his foot to point away from the snake, his body language subtly starting to close off, both clear signs he wants to end this conversation soon.

Orochimaru is, if nothing else, observant, “It must have been difficult being on your own, with the tension on our borders.” But that doesn’t mean he will allow Obito to leave that easily.

Obito snorts, “I stayed south east for the most part.” They both know that the specifics of Sakumo’s mission would be held classified, as all mission reports are (unless otherwise needed for various reasons, snooping and curiosity not being a part of them). So by all rights Orochimaru shouldn’t know  _where_ Sakumo and his team were at the time of meeting Obito. Telling Orochimaru this also means that the snake won’t actually have any real means to track him down and find out there is nothing to track. Either way, he doubts the snake will even try, because they both know he’s lying. It’s just a matter of figuring out  _why._ Is he lying to protect the integrity of a mission report, or is he lying because he’s hiding something more? Something that could have the potential to be useful to Orochimaru or to ROOT.

“For the most part,” Orochimaru repeats.

Obito lifts one shoulder in a half shrug, crossing his arms in the process, “Fire Country's big. There’s a lot to explore.”

Orochimaru hums, eyes sharp, “What made you come home?”

“I was late enough,” Obito says, knowing all too well what the snake is going to ask next. Because a question with such an obvious answer will always have a purpose beyond it's surface. 

“It wasn’t your nephew?”

“I didn’t even know I had one.”

“Then you had no contact with Konoha?”

“They thought I was dead.” Obito raises an eyebrow, “I’m sure your rumors told you as much.”

“I’ve found it's best to always be skeptical,” Orchimaru tells him. Obito can’t say he disagrees. “Didn’t it bother you, having your family think you were dead?”

“I didn’t know,” he tells him, because by all rights he shouldn’t have if he didn’t have contact with Konoha. But the question makes him think. Makes him remember when he was in Madara’s cave, back before he joined Zetsu’s plans. Back when his team was still alive and thought he had been crushed. It makes him remember the hope and excitement at getting healthy enough to see them. At becoming healthy enough to escape Zetsu and his clones. It makes him remember how he wished his team would just stumble into the cave and find him.

He pushes the memory aside, careful not to let it show on his face. Now is not the time to let his mind wander.

“And now?” Orochimaru presses.

“And now.” Obito uncrosses his arms, taking a step back, “I have a nephew to buy groceries for.”

It’s a dismissal if there ever was one, significantly more obvious than the last one. Enough so that even the more observant civilians would catch on. It forces Orochimaru to back down.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you,” the snake tells him with all the sincerity that Obito expected.

He doesn’t bother leaping onto the roofs or shunshining away, because the impact of walking away from a shinobi as powerful as the sannin is that much more. But it’s then that he  _really_ notices it. Notices the stares that follow him in curiosity and those that stay behind in thinly veiled hatred, and fear. Obito doesn't let himself glance back, but he understands that those looks are directed at Orochimaru. As much as Obito doesn’t care for the snake, he doesn’t particularly  _hate_ him either, so it leaves something bitter in the back of his mouth that the people of this village could look at someone who helps protect them with so much loathing. It’s not that Orochimaru is receiving these glares that makes such a feeling arise, but the fact a shinobi’s comrades could be so callous towards someone that has most likely saved their lives before. It's similar to how they used to look at him, when he was younger. Similar to how they  _still_ look at his younger self.

He walks a few blocks towards the market, because he hadn’t necessarily lied, he  _does_ have to buy groceries, but not right then. It simply gives himself something to do as he waits for the clone. The same one that dropped off Obi is now trailing Orochimaru, so all he has to do is wait to make sure the snake doesn’t go to his more illegal lab. Which leaves him with the opportunity to once more familiarize himself with Konoha’s streets. The streets that he grew up on, not the ones after his attack with the kyuubi, but those that have lasted since Konoha’s founding. There is nostalgia in it, to see something from his childhood. To have it all perfectly reconstructed before him. If he didn't know this was a different dimension then he would say it has to be the infinite tsukuyomi's work, to create something so close peace.

 

 

 

It doesn’t take long for his clone to pop, telling him Orochimaru is at his official labs rather than those that he has hidden from the Hokage. It leaves Obito with all the opening he needs. He’s more thankful than he will admit that the location of Orochimaru’s lab is the same in this dimension as in his own. Mostly because it means less time searching, and no need to try and break in past seals or traps.

What he sees doesn’t surprise him. In the main rooms of Orochimaru’s labyrinth there are test tubes and the clinical smell of medical supplies. Obito holds in a frown as he inspects the work tables, and the vials of different chemicals and genes. Everything is clean, perfectly shined as to rid the space of any potential infections or bacteria that could interfere with experiments. It makes him wonder how many orphans have already suffered. Have already died at the snake’s hands, at the command of Danzo. Children who would be soldiers for ROOT, trained to not feel. Trained to do nothing but kill, and die at the command of another.

All in the pursuit of science, and immortality. All in the pursuit of a selfish goal. There are similarities, if he thinks about it enough, between the snake's situation and his own. Orochimaru has the hatred of the village, and the backing of a powerful ally. Has the means to his goal presented to him at the crest of a new war, with friends all but non-existent. It makes sense, with this perspective, that the snake would bend to the corruption. But it still stands that, with the snake taking his experiments this far, there is not much he can do to keep him in the village. Even with evidence that it was under Danzo’s orders such experiments won’t be able to be overlooked. Although it is nothing like it would be in future tests.

He turns away from the tables, walking down another hall and taking a left into an open space. There is a shuffle, in the darkness of this new cavern. The stifling of breaths trying to go unnoticed as small lungs sputter in the ensuing panic at someone’s arrival. It smells of human waste, mixed with the nauseatingly sweet odor of sickness. The very chakra that runs through the stones feels of death.

He had, logically, known that Orochimaru experimented on children -  _seen_ it, and the results, in his past life. But now that he knows that  _this_ Orochimaru has gone so far already, has searched for immortality in the bodies of innocent children, he sees no more use in trying to keep the snake in Konoha. The second Orochimaru is found he will flee, and that will just be another factor that Obito will have to consider into his plans.

With this in mind he leaves the cavern, moving down to another room in the hopes that he will find the snake’s collection of DNA. He is of no use to Obito anymore, with his defection all but certain, and the fact that Zetsu may go to the snake to try and bring his plans into action, his decision is cemented. Orochimaru needs to die.

He knows that later, when Orochimaru is running Oto, the snake takes in any and all missing-nin, any and all orphans and deserters. Knows that the snake isn’t  _all_ bad. But he isn’t particularly inclined to care. He hadn’t been close to anyone in Otogakure, and he doesn’t believe there will be any great loss if the village is never founded.

He doesn’t think Rin would mind. Not when there are children involved. Not when Obito considered keeping the snake around. Perhaps, he could try harder, or blame it all on Danzo. Maybe even talk to the snake like Naruto would. But it will be simpler, as well, to just kill Orochimaru. Going to the Hokage all but ensures that he'll live to escape from Konoha. It would only prolong the time it takes for Obito to kill him, taking his attention away from other things, like Zetsu.

It’s in the third corridor to the right and two rooms down that Obito finds what he needs. Or, not so much needs so much as what he plans to destroy. Orochimaru won’t need the vials when he’s dead. Besides, it’s best not to let them fall into anyone’s - namely Zetsu, or Danzo’s - hands when the labs are inevitably rooted through.

He lifts his hand to run his fingers along the rows of jars, more than ready to let kamui do the rest of the work.

Except. He doesn’t.

Because an idea just struck him. Orochimaru, for all that he will become another factor Obito needs to consider, may very well be a factor that Obito _can_ use. At least, until Zetsu is dealt with. Someone as powerful as a sannin would grab the shadow’s attention, and no doubt he will try and manipulate Orochimaru into submission to his plans. But, if Tobi can gain Orochimaru’s favor, then he’ll have another set of eyes on Zetsu’s movements. A double agent. And one that Zetsu wouldn’t expect, at that.

And keeping the sannin alive means he has more time to deal with Danzo, ha

“Looks like you get to live,” he mutters to himself, drawing his hand back from the shelves as a plan already comes to life in his mind. Killing Orochimaru would surely be simpler, but _this_ may just be lucrative enough to make the extra effort worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... long time no see? Um, yeah. To make up for my absence: Sakumo's perspective! Yay! And a chapter that is more or less just fluff, and no real plot.

Sakumo can’t say for certain why he makes the decision. Perhaps, that’s because there isn’t any _one_ reason for it. Simply that they found a lone shinobi - clearly a shinobi with those scars and that build; civilians, no matter how fit, never quiet gain the same placement of muscles that an active ninja does - unconscious in the middle of Lightning. (Not entirely unheard of, but strange by any sense of the term.) And he made the choice to bring him with them.

Simple as that. Or, at least, that’s what he says in his report. Because the reality is more complicated. (Then again, isn’t it always?) What he doesn’t say is how the unknown had been surrounded by reaching plants - trees, and bushes, and flowers - all unnaturally growing within the small clearing. As if they were trying to protect. He doesn’t write about the way it made him think of the Senju. The clan that scattered to the wind following the village’s founding. The clan that turned into merchants of goods rather than death. He doesn’t mention his speculations on how it wasn’t necessarily impossible to find a Senju who had chakra and inherited mokuton; simply improbable to an extreme. Doesn’t say that there didn’t seem to be any reason for the state he was in - there were no wounds that he could find, and the man had normal chakra levels.

Doesn’t say any of that. Just that he had reached down and lifted the man onto his back, ignoring the looks that his comrades gave him. He had explained it when they were in a more secure location; told them that something in his gut said to hear the story behind the shinobi’s situation. (They had nodded at that, because a shinobi’s gut feeling was taken seriously when they’ve been active for long enough. And even though Sakumo’s missions haven’t been going well lately - ever since he chose his team over that one mission - Kushina and Tsume trust him. It meant more to him in that moment than he willingly let on.) Sakumo hadn’t even really noticed the man’s physical appeal until he woke. And then it turned out that they had picked up an Uchiha.

An Uchiha that was more shocked than relieved that Sakumo was there, a look that didn’t _fit_ with the original crushed recognition in his gaze. There aren’t any Hatakes left, the wars and years of service have made sure of that, so it is near impossible that the Uchiha - named Obito - could have known another one. His chakra - thick, and heavier than most other signatures as is part of their bloodline - would be a dead giveaway, and Obito had been awake long enough to get a feel for it.

The sheer disbelief in Obito’s voice, covered almost entirely by the surprise, when putting a name to Sakumo hadn’t sat right with him, and still doesn’t. It was almost as if Sakumo being there - being _alive,_ because those eyes looked like they had seen a ghost for a fluttering second - wasn’t or shouldn’t have been possible in the Uchiha’s opinion. Which didn’t make sense. (A whisper in the back of his mind said that the shock could be from a failed assassination attempt that the Uchiha expected to have worked - but it was dismissed easily, because there had been no bumps on their mission, one of the few missions in the past month that _hadn’t_ had anything go wrong.)

Sakumo hadn’t learned much in the time before they were attacked. But watching Obito fight had more than made up for that loss of potential information. Really, the Uchiha fought just as beautifully as he looked.

When they had finally settled for the night, and Sakumo got the opportunity to properly question Obito about what he was doing this far in Lighting, he hadn’t expected a training trip. Nor was he expecting to find out the fact that the sharingan apparently has more secrets than he originally thought. Among all his decisions that day, perhaps the most clear was when he insisted Obito keep his flak jacket. It was automatic, when watching a fellow shinobi - one that, by all rights, he was certain belonged amongst Konoha’s ranks - walk into a forest of an enemy country, to try and protect them. He had a team to help keep his back safe, but Obito didn’t have anyone. The look of shock that crossed the Uchiha’s face alone had been informative, and a bit sad to think too hard about. It was also that reaction that pushed him to seek out Mikoto when he returned to Konoha, because the mystery Uchiha left him curious. Curious about his eyes, about his place in Konoha, and about _why_ he was in Lightning; training trip or no, being that far in enemy territory without back up was practically suicide.

(Mikoto had been entirely uninformative, but there had been a knowing spark in her gaze that said there was more to the story, and that Obito hadn’t lied about being an Uchiha or being from Konoha at the very least.)

He hadn’t expected to see Obito reappear at the academy nearly two weeks after their first meeting to pick up one of Kakashi’s classmates. For a moment Sakumo had felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment that Obito was already married off, but it turned out that the child was his nephew and the relief that he felt had been pushed away to be looked at later.

A nephew also bearing the name Obito; one that claims the nickname Obi to help with the confusion of a father and brother not bothered to pick a different name. One that is excitable and bright, with dreams that reach so far into the sky they almost touch the sun. A nephew that is currently sitting on the swing outside the academy, most likely waiting for Obito to arrive.

It’s an easy decision to herd Kakashi over to the boy. “Dad?”

“We can’t just leave your friend to wait alone,” Sakumo tells his son with an encouraging smile. Kakashi is a genius, Sakumo knows, and making friends has never come easy to him the way shinobi skills and studying does. (The whispers of Sakumo’s failed mission, and the stares have no doubt contributed; the thought makes something sour wrap around his heart.) And no matter how hard Kakashi tries to hide it, Sakumo can see what having no friends and such a small pack does to his son. Can see the loneliness that his son covers up when Sakumo leaves on missions. Can see the stubbornness - that Sakumo likes to think comes from his late wife, but that he knows too well comes from him as well - stopping the boy from speaking up or changing his ways. Perhaps pushing his son to make friends with Obi will be good for all parties involved, because Obi’s own loneliness still hugs him like a blanket despite his uncle’s recent return.

“But we’re not friends,” Kakashi huffs, arms crossing, “he doesn’t even like me.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to change that,” Sakumo says, his hand still on his son’s shoulder to make sure the boy doesn’t make a break for home.

The young Uchiha looks up as they stop in front of him, a look of shock crossing his face before it’s quickly covered up by a beaming smile. “Hey, you’re that guy from yesterday!”

“Sakumo,” he supplies helpfully, “Kakashi’s dad.”

“Right, I knew that!” Obi’s smile dims only enough to let him open his eyes.

“No you didn’t,” Kakashi scoffs, but the words are low enough that Obi doesn’t catch them.

“Where’s your uncle?” Sakumo questions, squatting down to be on the same level as them.

Obi shrugs swinging his legs slightly, “He said he’d pick me up.”

“Running a bit late then,” Sakumo gives a definitive nod. “Well, how about we wait here with you?”

Obi blinks at him, “Really?”

Something tightens in Sakumo’s chest at the hopeful wonder in the boy’s voice, as if he could never imagine that someone would want to spend time with him. He smiles, but it’s strained with anger, he doesn’t ever want to imagine that same look on his own son’s face.

“Of course,” Sakumo tells him. “And when he gets here, how about an early dinner?”

Kakashi perks up at this. “Can we go to that new barbeque place?”

“Only if Obito’s uncle agrees,” Sakumo says.

“He’ll agree!” Obi insists, making a warm chuckle leave Sakumo.

“Agree to what?”

Sakumo rises to his feet, turning to find Obito standing there with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms. “An early dinner,” he explains, taking a step forward and giving his warmest smile in invitation.

“At the new barbeque place,” Kakashi puts in, ensuring they understand it’s the only option.

Obito looks at them for another long moment, searching Sakumo’s face for any intentions beyond the surface - there are some, a few really, but mostly curiosity - before unfolding his arms with a soft snort, “Alright, fine.”

 

 

 

Obito is going to regret this, he feels it in his bones. But Obi is looking at him with excitement and Sakumo’s smile is welcoming, warm in a way that Obito isn’t used to having directed at him, and it’s admittedly… nice. He hasn’t planned anything for tonight’s dinner, anyway, having spent the entire day rooting through Orochimaru’s labs, and then hunting for ROOT bases; he may have had a hand in nearly everything, but Danzo was smart enough to keep most of their locations secret. He has managed to gather a few hints and rumors, but nothing concrete; not enough to present to the Hokage when he kills one of the man’s long-time friends.

Sakumo falls back to walk beside him, letting Obi and Kakashi lead the way, and breaking Obito from his thoughts. “Busy day?”

Obito glances at him, trying to find the double meaning in that question - trying to find an intent other than curiosity. “Something like that.”

Sakumo hums, “I forgot to welcome you home yesterday. It must be nice to be back.”

“It is,” he says, mostly because it’s what’s expected of him, but as soon as he says it he can’t help but find that it’s true. At least, partially, because Zetsu is still out there, and there is still so much left to do to find peace for this world., but right then, walking through the streets of Konoha, looking at the markets and the bustling crowds of people, hearing the chatter of a hundred strangers all unaware of what is to come, he thinks that it really is nice to be back. Not home. Not exactly, but maybe one day it will become that again.

“Ten years is a long time,” Sakumo says.

“Practically a life time.” Obito scans his eyes over their surroundings, noticing more readily how people are staring; quick looks too, with skittering gazes that seem unable to decide whether to stay or not. As their surroundings turn more crowded it becomes more obvious that those who don’t look are _consciously_ doing so. Whispers too, float towards them and Obito tries to catch what they’re saying, but Sakumo steals his attention before he can.

“Well, I’m glad you came back.” Sakumo tells him, that same warmth from before now in his voice, but the spark in the man’s eyes almost ruins it. The same spark from the woods, and yesterday with Mikoto.

Obito raises an eyebrow, “Flirting again, Hatake?”

“Is it working?”

Obito snorts, “Hardly.”

“Then I’ll have to try harder.”

“Spare me the embarrassment,” he says, but there is a lightness in his chest that threatens to makes its way into his eyes. Obito’s not blind, he knows logically that Sakumo is attractive; can see the appeal in that smile, and his strong build. So he’s sure there are plenty of other shinobi who would be willing to fall into bed with him - who mostly likely have _wanted_ to for a while now. He never knew Sakumo when he was younger, never got the chance to even talk with him before he committed suicide - another event he would need to prevent - so he can’t say for certain that flirting isn’t just part of the man’s personality. But a portion of him - the portion that he shoves down to hopefully die a quiet death - enjoys it, likes the way those smiles are directed at him. It’s because Sakumo gave him his flak jacket, and it reminded him of how Rin always tried her hardest to protect their team; at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“You know, most people find me charming.”

“Are they deaf?”

“Ouch.” Sakumo presses a hand to his chest as if Obito hurt him, but he’s smiling broadly and it makes his own lips twitch. But a whisper reaches them at last, a hushed _‘traitor’,_ and Sakumo’s smile falters around the edges into something strained.

 _‘So he’s already had the mission_ ,’ Obito thinks while cutting a glare to the civilian man that had made the comment. Between his sharingans and scars it must make a particularly intimidating sight. When he was still on Team Seven he thought of the White Fang as a hero, and even though Obito lost his way a bit since then he can still recognize that Konoha has no right to shun Sakumo. It reminds him of Naruto, as well; of a boy made of sunshine and hope that was ostracized by his village for something _Obito_ had done, for something Naruto couldn’t control - for a burden that saved so many lives in carrying. Anger rises up as the stares and whispers continue, and it’s with that anger that Obito promises himself he won’t let Sakumo go down the same path as before - for Kakashi, if nothing else, because his idiot teammate deserves a father.

When he looks back to Sakumo there is a tightness around his eyes, and it makes the anger curl in Obito’s chest. “Where’s this place, anyway?” Obito tries for casual, because moving their attention away from what is happening in the crowd is best; he isn’t sure he manages it, however.

“A little ways past the main market. We’re almost there,” Sakumo tells him, and even though his shoulders haven’t relaxed the tension in his gaze has subsided and Obito counts that as a win. A small smile pulls the corner of Sakumo’s lips up, “Kakashi has been talking about eating there ever since they announced its opening. He was… disappointed that we couldn’t go during the grand opening, to say the least.”

It’s not hard to guess why Sakumo hadn’t brought his son on the first day, the man’s a good father from what Obito has seen - picking up and dropping off Kakashi every day. “Mission?”

Sakumo nods, his eyes gleaming, “The same one I saved you on.”

“You mean kidnapped,” Obito sniffs, casting his gaze back towards the two children leading them. They are having a conversation of their own that Obito suspects will soon turn into an argument. The Kakashi he remembers was never good at filtering his remarks, and Obito knows that his younger-self is more sensitive than he lets on. It’s surreal, in a way, that he can see the way he used to be from an outside perspective.

“You would have been killed if anyone else found you.” Sakumo raises an eyebrow at him, humor alight in his gaze.

Obito can’t hold in his snort, “I’d like to see them try.” An actual _goddess_ couldn’t kill, despite his best attempts at letting her.

Before Sakumo can reply there is a shout from Obi and it draws there attention with a snap. Apparently he was right about the brewing argument. With a twitch of his lips he lengthens his strides to catch up with his younger-self-turned-nephew, pulling him away from Kakashi before either of them can come to blows. He looks up and catches Sakumo’s eyes as the Hatake puts a hand on Kakashi’s shoulder, the young boy’s arms crossing defiantly in front of his chest, head tucked into the scarf around his neck.

“Maybe barbeque isn’t the best idea,” Sakumo says slowly.

Kakashi’s eyes go wide with panic, “But dad!”

Sakumo looks down at his son, “If you want to go then apologize to Obi.”

“But he started it!”

“Did not!” Obi shouts back, eyes already starting to water.

“How about you both apologize, and we still get barbeque,” Obito suggests, because Sakumo said Kakashi was _excited_ for this, and Obi seemed equally as thrilled when they were at the academy grounds. (And there is a little part that he keeps tucked away that wants this. Wants to sit down with someone else and eat a meal; no orange mask, or persona.)

“That sounds like a good deal,” Sakumo nods, his voice encouraging. “What do you say Kakashi?”

The boy still has his arms crossed, and from the stubborn set of his shoulders Obito knows that he won’t turn his head to actually _look_ at Obi, but the boy bites out an apology as it is, and that’s all they can really ask for.

“Obito?” He grips his nephew’s shoulder slightly tighter.

“I’m sorry, too,” Obi mumbles out.

“There,” Sakumo smiles down at them both, “that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Kakashi lets out a huff before marching off in the direction of the restaurant. Obito’s lips twitch at the sight, but they all follow obligingly.

Surreal, he thinks, isn’t a strong enough word.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ello lovely readers,  
> IMPORTANT: if you haven’t reread chapter 6 since the last update (chap 7) then go back and do so! I changed the ending and forgot to put it in the A/N of the last chapter!  
> But besides that… um? Sorry, for being gone so long, but shit has been going down in my life and normally writing is a stress relief for me but I haven’t had the time and it’s honestly been awful. I would like to say I’ll be updating more often over the summer, but I give no promises. Anyway, this chapter is literally 90% fluffy goodness, and flirting, so enjoy!

Obi hasn’t been this happy since his first day at the academy, and that only lasted a few hours at most. But with his uncle it’s lasted _days, weeks_ even _._ Maybe Sakumo helps with that, because Kakashi’s dad is so _nice,_ a complete opposite of his son - not that Kakashi is horrible, or anything - but the majority of the light feeling in his chest traces back to his uncle. Obi will concede that Kakashi has had his moments in the week following their early dinner together. But Sakumo is nice even though Obi doesn’t have his sharingan yet, and is late more often than not.

And now, sitting under a tree for lunch, all he can think about is the training session that his uncle promised him. This time they’re going over traps that can contain multiple enemies at once. He’s sure that he can impress Rin with them. Sure that he can leave Kakashi in the dust. Sure that if he masters this, then Obito will agree to help him unlock his sharingan.

A shadow falls over him, and when he looks up it’s to find a man in a mask staring down. “Uchiha Obito, please come with me,” the stranger says.

“Why?”

“Danzo-sama wishes to speak with you.” Before he can say another word the masked man reaches down and grabs his arm. There’s a rushing sensation that curls in his stomach and disorients him even as he feels his feet hit solid ground.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He says blinking as he looks at his new surroundings; a clearing in the trees that he’s pretty sure is just outside the academy grounds. His eyes settle back on the figure that brought him here, but they’re not looking at him, and the blankness of their mask makes something unpleasantly like anxious fear twist his stomach.

His eyes stray back forward and his heart skips a beat at the sight of a man there. “Wha-,” Obi cuts off with a sharp click of his jaw as the man takes a step forward.

“Danzo-sama,” the shinobi says, falling to one knee with a hand placed over his chest, head bowed. Obi finds the position strange, unsure if he is expected to do the same for the old man that comes from the shadows of surrounding trees, a wooden cane helping support his movements.

“Uchiha Obito.” The sound of his name has Obi’s eyes snapping up from the bandages wrapping the man’s arm. “You can call me Danzo, I’m a friend of the Hokage.”

Obi squints at the man, not understanding.

“I’m here on behalf of Konoha,” the man continues, “to give you a mission that only you can complete.”

 

 

 

It’s been over a month since he’s arrived in the past, and he’s managed to find three of Danzo’s bases; gathering more than enough information to put the man behind bars - because Sarutobi has always been lenient with his friends - but that is not what Obito needs from this endeavor. He wants Danzo’s head in a scroll, preferably put there by Obito himself. It will makes things easier knowing for sure that Danzo is dead and gone. Will ensure that there is one less spy for Zetsu to gather information from.

With a flourish he appears in his personal dimension, taking off the cloak and orange mask he wore to convince Orochimaru of the benefits in helping him. The snake visits his personal labs during his afternoon breaks at least once a week, although never on the same day. With that in mind Obito has been visiting everyday as Tobi to try and catch the man’s attention, finally succeeding.

It wasn’t all that hard to convince the snake - a few bits of information on the rinnegan, and a hint that he knew how to achieve immortality, with embellishments of course, and a promise of his own village - one that Tobi would help the man build through information - was all it took

Yet still, it’s been over a month, and he’s still playing catch up to Zetsu. Killing Madara does nothing to stop Zetsu’s plans. Warning a few nations, and the Akatsuki won’t do anything if they don’t believe he’s telling the truth. Having Orochimaru as an ally, and gathering information on Danzo means little - there are always other pawns for Zetsu to use. Setbacks. That’s all they are to the shadow; setbacks. Buying time, and information that may or may not be helpful. Obito hopes it’s enough.

It will have to be enough.

With a scowl Obito pulls himself into the bathroom of his home, taking a deep breath before switching places with his clone, bringing the living room into view. Over a month in the past and he’s been targeted by Mikoto’s whims nonstop. (He catches her staring at him with calculating eyes sometimes, it always makes a shiver run down his spine - a gut feeling twisting with warning that she’s planning _something._ And more often than not he’s right.) This time it’s babysitting a very young, and very energetic Uchiha Shisui.

Or, more specifically, it’s forcing his wood clone to babysit the young Uchiha. Thankfully Mikoto should be by soon to pick up the boy, giving him time to pick up Obi from the academy - something that she very pointedly mentioned he would be doing so long as he was in the village. There are many things Obito is willing to face - goddesses, bijuu, and an evil conglomeration of shadow and plant matter - but Mikoto is decidedly _not_ one of them. (Although, by the end of the second week he ended up going to the academy for the way the shock on Obi’s face lessens each time, and the joy that gathers in its place, because he remembers being that age and wanting to walk out those doors and see someone waiting for him. Remembers the loneliness of walking home. Although he’ll never admit it. Not to himself, and least of all to anyone else.)

“Alright, kid,” Obito starts, taking in the mess that the small home has become over the past few hours; papers scattered everywhere, markers and crayons - some broken - strewn across the floor and table, “let’s clean up before Mikoto shows up, yeah?”

Shisui looks up at him with large dark eyes, his face still filled out with baby fat that won’t start shedding away until he starts the academy in a year. “But-.”

“No ‘but’s,” Obito interrupts, “we don’t want to make her wait, do we?”

Shisui grumbles, looking down at his scattered set of markers and half-finished drawing with a forlorn look. Obito makes a solemn vow that he won’t bend to the watery eyes that move back to look at him. He won’t. He’s a shinobi; he has a stronger will than a child.

He raises an eyebrow.

The child lets out a dramatic huff of air, cheeks still puffed out in displeasure even as he starts messily moving the papers into a semblance of a pile. Obito resists rolling his eyes - really, one would think that being dramatic was their bloodline instead of the sharingan - and bends down to help.

Mikoto arrives ten-minutes later, walking in to find the floor only partly covered in papers, and Obito’s arms full of Shisui’s drawings. A sweet smile spreads across her face. It’s the first one that she’s given him without the edge of a threat. He narrows his eyes, “You’re late.”

“Funny to hear _you_ saying that,” Mikoto says, whisking Shisui into her arms. She doesn’t bother pointing out that she’s only a few minutes late at most. “I trust you to keep these artworks safe.”

Obito looks around at the scattered pieces of a paper with sloppy masses of color that vaguely resemble shapes, “Sure.”

“Good.” She nods, shifting Shisui slightly in her arms as the boy squirms. “You might want to hurry, the academy lets out soon.”

With that she leaves, calling a goodbye over her shoulder as she closes the door with a soft click. Obito wastes no time gathering the rest of the drawings, tapping them against the table to make the stack even. He carries them to the small shelf in his room before he, too, leaves the small home.

He ends up taking the rooftops, the streets far too crowded for his taste; too many chances for a tail to go unnoticed for too long. There are whispers as well, now. About him and Sakumo, and how often they are seen together at the academy and in the street. They are wondering, when directed at him. But hostile, still, once Sakumo’s name joins in.

It’s disappointing that the accusations thrown at Sakumo haven’t stopped, even if Obito knows that they last long after the man commits suicide.

With one last leap Obito lands silently inside the academy gates, eyes scanning over the crowd and coming to land on two shocks of silver hair that always seem to be with his nephew.

“Sakumo, Kakashi,” he greets as he walks up to the small circle, ignoring the smile that Sakumo sends his way. “Ready to go home, Obito?”

Instead of the usual beaming smile, Obi simply looks down with an almost nervous air about him, “Sakumo-san, and Bakashi are going training…” The boy trails off.

“And I told him that you two are welcome to join,” Sakumo picks up the sentence. “Maybe show the kids how it’s done with a spar or two.”

“I don’t see why not,” Obito says, scratching lightly at his cheek - he has plans to train Obi as it is, training alongside Kakashi this earlier on could only benefit both boys and their teamwork.

Obi cheers, a beaming grin splitting his face as he pumps a fist into the air in his excitement. Kakashi even perks up at the consent and possibility of watching two trained shinobi.

Sakumo chuckles at the sight, before turning his gaze back to Obito. There’s a spark in his eyes that Obito has long since learned the meaning of. “Let’s make it more interesting.”

Obito raises an eyebrow in silent question.

“A bet.” Sakumo explains, “When I win, you go on a date with me.” The smile that accompanies those words makes Obito’s heart pump strangely in his chest. A month exposed to Sakumo, a _month,_ and the man still hasn’t relented.

“And when I win?” Obito can’t say he’s willing to back down from the challenge, though. Besides, it’s a good experience for Obi and Kakashi to have.

Sakumo hums, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “You can chose were we eat tonight.”

Obito levels him with a flat look, “How is that any different?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them; before he can properly understand their meaning.

Sakumo smirks, wide and triumphant, “You said it not me.”

“Are we doing this now, then?” Obito lets that particular strain of the conversation go, not willing to dig himself further into a hole.

“Training ground three is open,” Sakumo offers, already starting towards the gates.

“Rules?” Obito asks as he follows, the kids both at his sides.

“Taijutsu only,” Sakumo says, pausing until the sounds of protests from Obi and Kakashi die off.

“First to draw blood?”

“First to be pinned,” Sakumo counters, a predatory glint in his eyes that Obito could chalk up to the idea of an interesting spar if not for the fact the man has been flirting with him since they met.

Obito hums, forcing the images and rising blush that they threaten to cause out of his mind. “Deal.”

 

 

 

“You should give up now,” Kakashi informs him as they go through stretches, “my Dad’s obviously going to win.”

“Hey!” Obi shouts, “Uncle is going to kick your Dad’s butt!”

“Yeah, right. Like he-.” A hand falling on Kakashi’s head cuts him off.

“Now, now, it’s just a spar,” Sakumo says, “winning’s not everything.”

“Says the man who made this into a bet,” Obito snorts, moving out of his last stretch.

“It makes it more fun.” Sakumo sends him a grin.

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t say he doesn't agree, he remembers making one-sided bets with Kakashi and, although he mostly lost, it still made the experience more entertaining - at least for their sensei it did.

“Ready when you are,” he says, moving towards the center of the clearing, excitement filling his stomach as the Hatake takes a ready stance across from him. Obito may not be who he once was when on Team Seven, but he can recall all too well the hero worship he had for the White Fang back then. To think he would be allowed to chance to spar against him; it sends thrills down his spine.

There isn’t a call to start. One moment they are facing each other, and the next Obito is ducking a kick, and jumping back before the follow up can connect. Sakumo comes after him, forcing him on the defensive, and it’s not exactly where Obito wants to be.

With a feint left he puts himself a few feet away to the right, letting his sharingans read each move the Hatake plans to make. The second he’s far enough away, Obito lets his weight shift, pushing off with his back foot and meeting the man halfway.

He avoids the initial punch, dodging to the right and bringing his own arm up to use Sakumo’s momentum against him, but the man twists bringing his other fist around and Obito curls his spine back to get out of range. He uses the change in weight to drop lower, trying to get underneath the man’s guard.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.

Obito brings up his arm to block a kick, he jumps the sweep that Sakumo makes at his legs, and uses the man’s crouching form to flip himself over and get behind him. A strike at a pressure point in the neck is blocked. He steps back to avoid an uppercut, and back again to avoid the high kick that is sent his way. He ducks under the following punch, using that motion to move into a kick of his own. It connects, if barely. Just a mere scrape of his toe along the man’s flak jacket as Sakumo moves back.

He pulls a kunai then, letting it trail after the man and forcing him to bring his own up to block it. As good a distraction as any. Obito dives forward, using the new angle to bring his legs out and send the man onto his back. But Sakumo uses the fall to roll backwards into a crouch, though it does little good, Obito uses the time it takes the Hatake to finish the maneuver to put himself behind the man, kunai drawn and at his neck.

“I win,” he says, heart pounding in his chest.

“We said until pinned,” Sakumo counters, and then there’s a hand on his wrist and another that has reached back to fist into his shirt. Before he can even blink he’s on the ground, Sakumo hovering over him with a kunai of his own. But Obito isn’t an S-ranked shinobi for nothing, and in minutes their positions are flipped.

“Yield?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“Yield,” Sakumo chuckles out, a smile on his face as he’s pinned beneath Obito.

Obito rises to his feet, offering Sakumo a hand as well. The man takes it, and Obito only lets himself appreciate the thick callouses and warmth of it for a moment. A moment that is ruined at the flare of chakra off to their right.

An ANBU appears soon after, “Hatake-san, the Hokage requests your presence.”

Sakumo gives a sharp nod, and the ANBU disappears in a rush of chakra. “It seems I’ll need to take a rain-check on our date.” Sakumo gives him a hopeful look, one that Obito can catch the edges of hesitation in, “Could you look after Kakashi until I return?”

“Of course,” he says, only registering the earlier part of what the man said after he’s disappeared in swirl of leaves. “It’s not a date.” He tells the empty spot stubbornly, before glancing over at the two boys still at the edge of the clearing, a wide eyed look on both of their faces. Obito holds in a snort at the sight.

“Looks like you’re staying with us for a bit, ‘Kashi,” he calls out, ignoring the protests at the nickname. “We can stop by your house on the way to the compound.”

He makes careful note of the lack of any tails as they make their way back to Konoha proper. He doesn’t let his frown at this show. For the past week ROOT has been on-and-off following him. Some days he’ll have one or two tails, others none at all. It’s strange compared to the constant eyes on him for the previous weeks. There’s always the chance that Danzo has realized spying on him is futile after all this time, but Obito doubts that. The man wouldn’t pull his spies unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps he’s moving up his plans in the war - already pulling strings, or the tensions on the borders have led to more losses in his ROOT organization. But even then Danzo wouldn’t leave him completely without a tail. Whatever the reasoning, Obito isn’t about to let his guard down, not until the man is dead. Something that should be achievable in weeks’ time, at most.

“Uncle,” Obi’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, “can we still train when we get home?”

Obito gives a nod to his younger self, before turning to Kakashi, “You free to join.”

The boy only crosses his arms, but there is an assessing look in his gaze as he side-eyes Obito. A look of respect, if Obito dares to say it.

“Whatever,” Obi huffs at the other boy, “we’re focusing on traps today, anyway. I bet you wouldn’t be able to make a single one.”

“Could too,” Kakashi snaps back.

“Could not.”

Kakashi snorts, “Yeah? And what do _you_ know about traps? I bet you’ll just get caught in them yourself.”

“Will not!”

“Will too!”

Obito holds in a sigh, trying to ignore the building headache that the pressure in the back of his head threatens. _‘It’s going to be a long night.’_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Ello lovely readers,  
> So um this is shorter than I thought it would be... and honestly I'm not all that happy with it, but if I don't post it now then it'll never get up so... yeah.

A long night doesn't quite describe the reason for the headache Obito has by the time he _finally_ gets Obi and Kakashi to go to sleep - only slightly later than nine, but every minute counts. Argument after argument, insult after insult, have all left him exhausted - was he really this bad when he was younger? It’s a wonder that Minato didn’t strangle the both of them really. (It doesn’t really change the building fondness that he has for them, or the pride that he feels when either of them correctly set up one of the traps he’s had them working on the past two nights. Although, he won’t admit it - not even to himself, really.)

With a soft sigh he closes Obi’s bedroom door behind him. Two days in and he’s ready to pawn them off on Mikoto. She’d get her revenge, he knows, but a few minutes of peace would be nice. Especially considering he won’t be sleeping tonight.

Silently, he makes his way down the hall and into his own room, letting his senses stretch out to try and find any unwanted visitors. Nothing. And for some that may be a relief, but for him it sets his instincts ablaze. Something is off about Danzo not sending spies to watch over him - regardless of the on and off schedule they have been holding of late. He isn’t stupid enough to think that it wasn’t deliberate. It just means _something_ has changed. The only questions is _what_?

His talks with the Mizukage and Nagato should clear some of his suspicions about it up, however. Obito locks his door behind him before entering into his own dimension in a swirl of chakra.

He steps out into Yagura’s office minutes later, orange mask pulled firmly over his face, and chakra suppressed to be nothing but a flicker under his skin. “Mizuage.” He greets, eying the kunai that stab into the door behind him. It’s no surprise that the man is still here this late at night.

“You again,” Yagura bares his teeth.

“Tobi.” He helpfully supplies, “I’m here to talk about our pest.”

“Our?” Yagura raises an eyebrow, “The only pest is _you._ ”

“Don’t be like that,” he sighs, walking towards the man’s desk. “I already explained everything.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that.” Yagura says, dry as dust. Before Obito can reply the man flicks his hand to send the guards that came out back into their hiding places. Another hand-sign and a flare of chakra sets a barrier. “How about we make a trade. I’ll tell you what I’ve learned, and you tell me something of interest to Kiri.”

“How do I know you won’t lie?” He counters, but it’s empty, they both know. They were never trust between them regardless.

“You don’t.” Yagura replies all the same, “The same way I don’t know if you’re lying.”

“Trust through mutual distrust.” Obito hums, “Alright, you got a deal. What does Kiri want to know?”

Yagura leans forward, eyes intent, “Where is the sanbi?”

He tilted his head, rocking back on his heels - it’s not that he didn’t expect questions, it’s more that he didn't expect this particular one. He thought they already knew. “You think I know?”

“I think you’ll find out for me.” Yagura leans back again, seemingly satisfied with himself, “That is, if you want information on Zetsu.”

“Assuming I don’t know,” Obito says carefully, “and manage to find out, by that time any information you have on that pest will be old news.”

Yagura hums, “Maybe, or maybe not. The question is whether or not you’re willing to take that risk.”

The sad part is that he _is_ willing to take that risk, if only because he knows that they’ll end up with the sanbi regardless of his intervention or not. But it also means he’ll need to find the damn biju first. Which means more restless nights in his future, and more sneaking around - nothing he can’t handle, really, just an inconvience.

He disappears from the room without answering. Obito figured the Mizukage would do something like this, the man’s a shinobi and he wouldn’t have gained his position easily. But that doesn’t change the inconvenience that it brings.

He reappears in the outskirts of Ame, slipping through the streets like a ghost towards what he hopes is the Akatsuki’s headquarters in this dimension as well. A simple genjutsu and a scan of the chakra around him brings him to Nagato’s room. The man is a powerhouse, and with his chakra not suppressed in a place he considers safe, it’s not hard to track him down. And this late at night it’s safe to assume that Nagato is alone.

Not bothering with knocking, Obito phases through the door into the man’s room, letting the genjutsu fall off as Nagato’s head snaps around at the sudden intrusion of a foreign chakra.

“You,” the man growls, rising into a defensive position, kunai at the ready, and Obito has to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Me,” he agrees, because watching the way Nagato’s hand twitches at that is entirely too entertaining. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out why I’m here.”

“You’re not getting my eyes,” he growls.

Obito flaps a hand, melding more with his persona of Tobi, looking to around the room as he does, “I’m not here for that.”

“Then what _are_ you here for?”

“To make a deal,” he says, because that seems to be the best option now. “You keep your eyes away from Zetsu and tell me when he appears, and in turn I’ll help you with Hanzo.”

Nagato narrows his eyes, “And how do I know I can trust you?”

“You don't,” he hums, “but I like to think that scroll explained everything.”

The kunai in his grip shifts slightly, “Why? Why does he need the rinnegan and tailed beasts?”

“You haven’t figure it out?” Obito raises an eyebrow, he throws his arms out wide, “He wants to destroy the world! One. Nation. At. A. Time. And seeing as you have something he needs…”

Obito can see the moment everything clicks - the moment that Nagato places all the clues together that Obito has left like a trail of blood.

“Information,” Nagato finally says, “that’s all you need, and Ame will be safe.”

Obito hums, he could mention Danzo’s part in keeping Ame at war with itself, but that would be something for Konoha to divulge and gain back trust with, “Yes, Ame will be safe from Hanzo and Zetsu.”

Nagato nods, either not noticing the careful wording, or satisfied with what it implies.

“Oh.” Obito raises a finger as if he just thought of something, “And you might want to tell your friends.”

He leaves in a swirl of chakra a heartbeat before the door swings open, Konan and who he can only assume is Yahiko’s chakra signatures burning just outside. He’s almost positive that the two of them has caught the last few moments of the conversation, so they would have questions; not to mention Obito didn’t completely suppress his chakra. It’s better this way, really. Because Nagato believes now, and between his own explanation and the scroll then the other two will begin to help gathering information as well.

Obito takes a deep breath in as he strips his mask off, “It’ll work out.” The words are loud in the empty space, even as he whispers them, filling it like a promise. So similar to the one that he made to Rin all those weeks ago.

 

 

 

Between his excursion and the fact Kakashi is an early riser he only manages a few hours of sleep that night. Translating into the coffee cup that he’s curled himself around as the sun starts to kiss the horizon becoming his best friend. The dark depths of the liquid capturing his attention as his younger-self and Kakashi eat breakfast before he walks them to the academy.

“Can we train with jutsu tonight?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” he says, taking a long drag from his mug.

“That’s not an answer.” Kakashi counters, arms crossing.

“Yeah!” Obi agrees, his cheeks puffing out as he pouts.

At least they’re agreeing on _something_ , Obito thinks. “Because neither of you have mastered tree-walking.”

A knock on the door interrupts whatever they were going to say and Obito takes the out for what it is. He doesn’t recognize the signature, and perhaps that should have been the first sign something was wrong. But it’s not until the unknown shinobi outside the door starts explaining that they were on Sakumo’s team and he’s in the hospital that it really clicks.

He doesn’t even bother letting them finish, shutting the door and grabbing hold of Obi and Kakashi - both of whom followed him to the door, most likely to continue their argument - before swirling away in a rush of chakra.

They appear in the hospital lobby, and Obito doesn’t bother stopping to explore the urgency he feels, telling himself that it’s because it’s Kakashi’s father. That it’s because he told himself he would make sure the boy grew up with one this time around.

“Which room is Hatake in?” He demands from the front desk nurse.

The woman glances up at him, “I can’t give patient information out to non-family members, sir.”

“He’s my dad!” Kakashi shouts before Obito can say a word. The sound drawing stares from those around them. Still, it gets them a room number.

Room 274. The few minutes that it takes to get there feels like hours, but they arrive all the same. And as they pull back the door and the two boys rush in first Obito doubles down on his chakra and emotions. Not letting even an ounce of control slip as he follows after.

“Kakashi?” Sakumo asks from where he sits in the hospital bed, already dressed in his gear again as if ready to leave. “What are you doing here?” Even as he questions it he accepts the embrace that his son throws himself into.

“You’re teammate told us you were injured,” Obito explains, meeting Sakumo’s eyes.

“It was nothing serious,” the man says, as if ending up in the hospital doesn’t say otherwise. A shinobi normally does anything to stay out of these walls - to be injured enough to end up here _means_ something.

Obito only raises an eyebrow in answer.

Sakumo huffs, “I’m fine, really. Just some bad luck is all.”

“The mission-.”

“Failed,” Sakumo shakes his head, looking torn, “the borders are really starting to heat up.”

Obito can’t help but frown at that, a niggling feeling in his gut telling him that _something_ is off. If the skirmishes were really becoming this bad then there would be more talk in town about it, but he’s heard nothing. And if he remembers correctly then the war shouldn’t officially start until a month or two before he graduates - something that is still a few months away. Has his presence really affected things that much? Or is this dimension’s timeline different? But if it was that then there would be more whispers. More tension. There would be an increase in deaths and missions. If that were true then the Hokage would have told him already. And three days wouldn’t be enough time for things to change so dramatically.

Still, the slow disappearance of his ROOT guards also pointed to greater tensions on the border, even if the tensions in the village didn’t. Then again, if that were true then why wasn’t there tension in Kiri? Yagura knows a war was coming, yet there were no more patrols around the village than usual. If the borders were tenser, even if it wasn’t necessarily Kiri’s, then the village would react.

Obito grit his teeth. He was missing something.

No.

Not something.

His eyes snapped towards his younger-self, some _one._

Danzo never minded using his shinobi as cannon fodder before, especially if he thought it would gain something. Never cared for using children to do his dirty work.

“Obito,” he starts, moving to kneel before Obi, “can you open your mouth for me?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ello lovely readers!  
> So this is up so much faster than I thought it would be, but that's mostly thanks to the power of procrastination - I'm taking two summer classes to meet some major and lib ed (fuck lib eds tbh) requirements, and hate biology SO MUCH.  
> This chapter - and really all these chapter if im being honest - is dedicated to you guy, my lovely readers who are so freaking supportive i could cry!  
> Thank you all so much!

He laughs. Laughs high and disjointed because of _course_ the man would go so low as to put a seal on his nephew. Right on the back of his throat. Hidden enough to go unnoticed. Even if it doesn’t explain everything, what a great excuse it gives him to rip Danzo apart piece by painful piece. (Only, maybe it does. Because having Obi spy on him frees up ROOT members, and without any ROOT on him he may have acted differently, revealing something. It also means that those ROOT members could be redistributed to doing whatever whim Danzo had at the time. Whether that be spying on other nations, acting as pawns in the larger game of the coming war, becoming cannon fodder for an old war-hawk, or- _or,_ causing missions, that would otherwise be a success, to fail.)

“Obito?” Sakumo asks, voice strong with concern.

“Uncle?” Obi says at the same time, eyes wide with confusion.

But he can’t bring himself to answer as he rises to his feet. He hadn’t anticipated _caring_ for his younger self when he came back, hadn’t anticipated the hot burn of anger at someone using Obi. And he has no intention of letting Danzo get away with it. The man may believe that he is safe as an elder of Konoha and friend of Hiruzen, but Obito couldn’t care less. (And he thinks Rin would agree, in this case, because for all that she was a kind soul she was a shinobi too. She fought and died for this village and those in it.) All it means is that the man won’t be expecting him. Kamui brings him right into Danzo’s home office, there is no need for pretenses in this, after all. The man’s desk is empty, and he can’t sense any chakra in the house. He doesn’t let himself feel frustrated at this, this isn’t the only place Danzo can be found.

It takes appearing in two ROOT bases and a specialized training ground for the organization before he tracks the man down.

“Uchiha Obito,” Danzo greets him, looking the picture of calm with his ROOT guards around him.

“You put a seal on my nephew.” The words come out a growl, guttural and threatening; that of a predator who has found their next meal.

“You’re an unknown,” Danzo replies, voice monotone. “Hiruzen was too soft in letting you out into the village with those fake papers.”

“Let’s cut to the chase.” Obito pulls a naginata from his world. “You wouldn’t have risked using my nephew unless you needed to pull the guards for a reason.”

Danzo remains silent to this, perhaps not realizing that this is the last conversation he will ever have.

Obito continues, voice growing quiet with its intensity, “You’re using ROOT to cause skirmishes on the boarders.”

“You have a quick mind, Uchiha,” Danzo tips his head, “I wonder if your nephew is the same.”

“You won’t live long enough to find out.” Kamui is a sage sent gift in these kinds of battles. The guards attack first, leaving a few behind to take up a defensive position around Danzo as they start to retreat towards the sanctity of the base. Obito has no intention of letting them even reach the tree line.

A burst of mokuton takes out the first few ROOT members, the other five he leaves two clones to deal with, letting kamui phase him through every attack. He brings his naginata up and around as he reaches the first of the defensive team, being tangible once more to let the bladed end cut through the guard of the first shinobi, ripping a gash from hit to neck. One down.

He jumps back to avoid the swipe of a sword, ducking under a high kick and coming up with a kunai in his other hand to gut the attacker. Two down.

He phases through the next attack - a shoddy excuse for a fireball jutsu. Flying through hand-signs even as he lets himself become tangible, Obito lets a fireball come to life that encases the last two guards, but he wastes no time phasing to get behind Danzo, not even giving the man time to spin around before stabbing him through the chest. Expect his blade goes through a log instead, and he’s forced to leap to the side as a wind jutsu bursts by.

He spins on a heel, still crouching and then uses his position to try and come up and under the man’s guard, using his naginata as an extension of his arm. It’s blocked by a sword, wind chakra thickly applied to the blade to give it extra strength. Obito grins, teeth bared and blood thirsty, he has no intentions of giving Danzo the illusion he even has a chance.

With all the speed he can manage he disappears and reappears at the man’s left side instead of behind him, bringing his naginata up to catch the man’s attention and force an instinctive block before he disappears again.

His weapon buries deep into the man’s throat, with a kunai struck through to the man’s heart, cutting muscle and tissue, angled perfectly to kill. Not as painful a death as he would have liked, and much easier than he had anticipated - no sharingan eyes to allow for last minute tricks - but it is best not to give him the chance to escape.

It’s satisfying to see the shock on the man’s face. The way the expression freezes itself as death glazes over. Satisfying. But not nearly _enough._

He pulls his naginata out of the man’s neck, letting the body fall to the group with a thump, before using the blade to cut the man’s head off. It would be best if the man’s body is never found; after all he made modifications to it in the other dimension, there is no telling if the man has started those experiments on himself yet or not. A sealing scroll and burst of kamui later, and all that’s left is the head.

There’s a dark sort of pleasure in picking up the severed head, the faint sound of dripping blood making his lips twitch. “You were right, Hiruzen _is_ soft,” Obito tells the head idly, “if only because he didn’t kill you. Why don’t we go tell him the good news?”

Appearing the middle of the Hokage’s office without notice, possibly, isn’t his brightest idea. Especially with Danzo’s head in his hand. _Especially_ considering Sakumo turns at the same time Hiruzen raises his head to his sudden presence. Really, it was a shot in the dark, whether or not it was a good idea to bring Danzo’s head to Sarutobi directly. But it’s better this than having the man find out later, and coming after him for doing it behind his back. It also means he can control how and what is said about Danzo’s death, and that control is worth whatever consequence his actions bring.

“Rash, you said?” Sarutobi asks, gaze still locked on Obito’s form even as the question isn’t for him.

“Obito,” Sakumo fully turns to him, taking in the severed head of the village elder, “what did you do?”

“He put a seal on my nephew,” Obito starts, walking towards the Hokage, “and he has been sending out ROOT shinobi to stir things up on the borders.”

“Sakumo, will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Sakumo says, a small bow included, but his eyes are locked on Obito. And for a moment Obito thinks he sees _concern_ behind the carefully neutral expression.

The door closes with a click, and not a second later, the Hokage send his guards out as well, a flair of chakra and the room is sealed in silence. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” The killing intent in the room slowly starts to rise.

“I killed a traitor.” Obito meets the man’s eyes squarely.

“With what evidence?”

“I know the location of his bases, and have evidence that he puts seals on his shinobi to keep them silent.”

Hiruzen lets out a sigh, “You said he sealed Obito?”

“On the back of his throat.” Obito nods, “He was using my nephew to spy on me, because he didn’t trust your decision.”

There is a wariness in the lines of the man’s face, accentuating his age as he looks at the head still clutched by its hair in Obito’s hand. A strange mixture of grief and relief that Obito thinks he might understand.

“When you asked to stay in the village, this is not what I had in mind.”

Obito can only shrug at that, “It’s the price of the future.” He had requested, back when they first talked of planning, to stay in the village for the first month or so. It would give the illusion that he was under guard for psychological trauma, and that he was slowly reintegrating. It also would give him the time to further his plans, and make sure that the movements of Tobi outside the village would not be associated with him or Konoha. Even with his use of a Kiri scroll there was always the risk Zetsu would piece it together too quickly for his liking. (Although there is still no guarantee that he _hasn’t._ )

“You realize I can’t let this go unpunished. You killed an elder of the village without first presenting evidence,” Hiruzen says, after a long pause of silence, “the council will ask questions.” And with his situation, being recently reinstated into the village, and having only a handful of weeks or so to gain trust, the outcome does not look good. Or, it at least it wouldn’t if Danzo wasn’t a treasonous war-hawk.

“Tell them the truth,” Obito says, simply. “Better to keep the blame internal.”

“To keep the tension of war subdued, I presume.” The man takes a long drag of his pipe, before pulling a scroll out from a drawer and handing it to him, “Seal the head, we’ll discuss more on how to handle this with Sakumo here.”

Obito nods, a small flicker of chakra and Danzo’s head disappears from his hands.

“And, Obito,”the Hokage says, waiting until he has his full attention before continuing, “you’ll be partnered with Sakumo from now on.”Obito doesn’t miss the reasoning; to keep him in line, as much for Hiruzen’s own peace of mind as for the council’s. It will also ensure that he’ll start moving his missions to track Zetsu from the shadows and into the light. He also doesn’t miss that this is far from the only counter Hiruzen will make for Obito killing his longtime friend.

Another flair of chakra, this time from Sarutobi and the silencing seal falls away, the ANBU returning to their positions.

“Bear, retrieve Sakumo.”

 

 

 

Obi still doesn’t understand why his uncle reacted the way he did when Obi opened his mouth. But from the way Sakumo’s eyes had also widened and they had been suddenly whisked off to the Hatake’s compound by a clone that promptly popped when they were inside, it seemed serious. It makes him feel small, like he’s done something wrong, but he doesn’t know _what._ And his uncle seemed so _upset_. What if he’s done something wrong enough that his uncle doesn’t want to come back? What if-

A light kick to his shin breaks him from his thoughts, and he glares up at the offender, “What was that for, Bakashi?”

“Are you going to help me with the hot chocolate or not?” Kakashi asks, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Hot chocolate?”

Kakashi rolls his eyes, and Obi feels indignation rise hot and fast within him, but before he can put any voice to it the Hatake grabs his arm and hauls him into the kitchen. “Get the milk from the fridge.”

Obi just blinks for a moment, sliding between not complying and doing what was asked because hot chocolate _does_ sound nice. After a moment he makes his way to the fridge and retrieves the milk. Maybe they can make some for his uncle and Sakumo, too, and then his uncle will forgive him for what he did. (Even if he doesn’t really know what that thing is.)

By the time they’ve finished make four cups they’ve only gotten into an argument twice. Once about the milk to chocolate ratio that should be used, and once about how long it should be on the stove for. But by the end of it they had four decently made cups of hot chocolate, and all that was left was to wait for Obito and Sakumo to arrive.

They don’t wait for long. Only another ten minute - the cups of cocoa haven’t even grown cold, so Obi assumes it can’t be longer than ten minutes since they made them - and the two appear quit suddenly in the living area.

Sakumo gives Obito a strange look, but Obi thinks it’s mostly from the use of his uncle’s technique. Being teleported from one place to another for the first time can be disorienting, as he himself has learned.

A strange pit settles in his stomach, however, as he looks at his uncle, and it takes a few moments for the patches of red to register as _blood._ His eyes widen, “Did you get hurt?”

His uncle’s gaze snaps to his, and Obi nearly squirms under the gaze, his eyes starting to burn.

“Obito,” his uncle starts, taking steady steps towards his, “we need to talk.”

The pit in his stomach grows, the burning behind his eyes becoming too much.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to, I swear!” He blurts out, tears streaming down his cheeks even as he rubs at them, his chest jerking sharply as more and more start to flow. Through the blur of his tears he sees his uncle’s surprised features, frozen in confusion as they look at him, but the meaning behind the expression doesn’t register around his panic. “Please don’t leave.”

His uncle moves fast then, kneeling in front of him quicker than Obi can blink. “I’m not going anywhere,” his uncle tells him.

“Then why-.” A catch in his breathing cuts him off and he has to start again, “Why did you run away?”

“I was angry,” his uncle says, “but not at you. At-.” His uncle pauses here, as if trying to find the right words, “Obito, did anyone wearing a blank mask ever approach you? Did they take you to meet a man named Danzo?”

“I promised not to tell,” he says, sniffing.

“That’s a yes, then.” His uncle sighs. “Obito, the man they took you to meet isn’t a good man, he put a seal on you that we need to get off, so the Hokage is arranging a man named Minato to come and look at it, okay?”

Obi looks at his uncle, not entirely following what is going on, but the one thing he does know is that his uncle isn’t mad at _him,_ and that’s the only part he really cares about. “Okay,” the word comes out mumbled, but it comes out nonetheless.

His uncle gives him a small smile as he rises to his feet once more, a hand ruffling Obi’s hair as he shoots a quick glance at Sakumo and Kakashi.

“What’s that I smell?”Sakumo’s voice, cheery in a way that doesn’t fit the atmosphere, suddenly fills the space.

“We made hot chocolate,” Kakashi answers.

“Hot chocolate?”Sakumo smiles, “Did you leave any for us old men?”

“Old?” Obi’s uncle narrows his eyes, but there is a touch of humor in his voice, a lightness that makes the last of the tension in Obi’s chest ease away.

“With that white hair, I only assumed…”

“Watch it, mutt, or you’ll be eating dirt instead.”

“Is that supposed to deter me?” Sakumo asks, eyes sparkling.

Obi’s uncle let out a huff of hair, caught between a laugh and sigh of frustration.

“We made four cups,” Obi says, drawing their attention.

“Enough for everyone, then,” Sakumo hums, smiling warmly at him. It makes him smile back, the only two people who smile at him like that are Sakumo and Mikoto. And even though his uncle doesn’t, he likes to think that one day he will.

 

 

 

“You said Danzo was stirring up the borders,” Sakumo greets him with, as Obito moves to sit next to him on the porch, the kids preoccupied in the yard. It’s getting late, but the sun is still over the horizon, even as it’s already been hours since they finished the overly sweet hot chocolates that the two kids made.

Obito could outright tell him that it was Danzo that caused this particular mission to fail, but he doesn’t think Sakumo would appreciate it. Perhaps look upon it as an excuse more than anything, a neat little lie that Obito came up with, instead of the truth. Or even further blame himself, because that means the village doesn’t trust him anymore, regardless of whether or not the perpetrator was Danzo, and not loyal to the village or representative of its thoughts. But putting the pieces together himself may have the opposite effect. At least, that’s what Obito is hoping for.

“I found mission scrolls in several bases,” he starts carefully, “about sending ROOT members to attack patrols from other nations.”

Sakumo nods, a far-off look in his eyes as he glances down at his hands and then back up at Kakashi and Obi. When he speaks next it comes out soft and almost forgotten in the catch of his voice, “I wasn’t the only reason for the coming war.”

Obito isn’t sure if he was meant to hear the whisper or not, isn’t sure if he _should_ respond. But ‘not meant to’ and ‘shouldn’t’ haven’t stopped him before, and in this moment, with the pain in Sakumo’s voice, he feels that stopping isn’t right. (He tells himself it’s for Kakashi, because of Kakashi. Tells himself that the bastard deserves a father, and that if all it takes to ensure that is speaking up, well, then Obito is more than willing.)

“When I was younger I thought that those who broke the rules were trash,” he starts, the words thick in his mouth. He looks ahead, unable to meet the Sakumos’s gaze as he continues, “But those who abandoned their friends and comrades were worse than trash. It’s how I got these scars.”

“And now?”

“Now,” Obito repeats, tipping his head upward, eyes on the clouds. “I think the kind of shinobi that puts their teammates before the mission is a hero.”

There’s a wet laugh, and Obito pretends not to notice the way any reply is too caught in the man’s throat to be said. Instead he falls back onto the wooden porch, eyes following the flitter of birds as they head over Konoha.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'ello my lovely readers,  
> So I've had much less time than expected to write fanfiction lately... and that is like 90% my fault. Who knew minecraft was this addictive? Especially when you make world with your friends... ANYWAY, that isn't the only reason, but I'm aiming for short and sweet here so...  
> Enjoy the chapter and hopefully I'll get my other stories updated soon as well...

It was stupid, he realizes, to believe even for a moment that seeing Minato and Kushina together wouldn’t hurt. He’s had a few days to prepare for this and he mistakenly thought that he could push the sharp stake of guilt and loss down since he has seen them already, but he can’t. It comes regardless, a breath-shaking ache that he can only hope doesn’t show on his face as Minato opens the door to let him, Obi, Sakumo, and Kakashi in.

“Come in,” the man says with a smile, warm and welcoming as he looks them over, “and make yourself at home.”

He manages a small upturn of his lips as he slips his sandals off and makes his way further into the home. It’s not the first time he’s been here. Maybe in this life, in this dimension, it is, but he can remember having team dinners here once in a while. Remembers fighting with Kakashi over the table, and the way they would pile onto the small couch - Rin squeezed in the middle, leaving him blushing.

But that was a different life time. And maybe it still tastes like Kushina’s ramen, and nostalgia. And maybe his chest feels tight, caught somewhere between laughter and tears. And maybe all he wants to do is run his finger over the shelf where their team photo used to be placed.

Maybe. But he can’t. And he won’t. And he doesn’t.

“Oh,” Kushina’s surprised voice catches his attention, “you’re here already. Minato, why didn’t you say something?”

“We just got here,” Sakumo says, as Kushina moves to look at the two boys. “Are you taking a look too?”

Kushina waves the Hatake off, “Pretty boy is good at creating seals, but I’m better at reading and deconstructing them.” She squats before the two boys, “So, which one of you is it?” Obi slowly steps forward, hands balled into his shirt and head down. Kushina seems to gain a softness at this, a warmth taking over her gaze, “Let’s have a look then.” She tips his chin up and offers a bright smile, eyes shining with comfort.

Obito isn’t sure how long they stay there, but it is spent mostly in silence as Kushina slowly copies the seal onto the piece of paper, prodding the original with her chakra and muttering as she takes notes. But it’s long enough that they need to leave for their meeting with the Hokage, giving short nods to the two adults and ruffling his nephew’s hair, he leaves the house and feels air enter his lungs for the first time since they arrived.

Sakumo gives him a sidelong look, but Obito determinedly pretends to not notice, waiting for the man to drop his curiosity instead. An unfitting hope when it comes to Sakumo, but it’s all he can do, because he’s not about to explain his discomfort around Minato and Kushina. Instead, letting the man draw his own conclusions.

And that’s exactly what he does.

“He’ll be fine,” Sakumo says after a minute of hopping roofs, “Kushina knows what she’s doing.”

Obito gives a small nod and smile to show that he heard, and in confirmation to Sakumo’s conclusion as to why he was so tense - better that than the truth.

They slide into the Hokage office with moments to spare, only to find out that they’re being assigned to hunt down Tsunade as their first mission together. Not the hardest mission that he’s ever been presented with, but not the easiest by far. She’s an asset, and the village wants her. Really, it’s no surprise that with the coming war - because even Danzo’s death cannot stop the damage that he has already done, and to admit to the other nations that much of the recent attacks were because the Hokage couldn’t keep tabs on his own elder and old friend would be political suicide. So they go to war, and war means injured shinobi.

“It’ll take a month, at least,” Sakumo says as Obito draws himself from his thoughts, but the Hokage barely blinks at the timeline.

“Take all the time you need.” Hiruzen tells them, waving his hand, “You’re dismissed.”

They leave immediately; Hiruzen promising to send word to Minato and Kushina to ask them to look after Kakashi and Obi until their return. It will give Kushina even more time to try and remove Obi’s seal, and without need for Obito himself to be there. It’s a relief, really, but Obito knows that this mission will fail. Knows it will affect Sakumo’s mental state even more.

Knows because he’s going to be the reason.

 

 

 

“Where are your wings?” Are the words that Tsunade greets him with as he sits across from her for the second time in the past week. He had been hoping to make more progress the first time around, as he can only keep Sakumo away for so long, but he had barely been able to explain that Konoha is after her before they had been interrupted. Debt collectors are more insistent than he thought they would be.

“What?”

“Your wings,” she says, downing another cup of sake. “You’re name means ‘to fly’, but you…” she trails off, face scrunching up, “you can’t fly.”

“You’re drunk.” He accesses, because how else can he respond to her babblings?

The woman snorts, “Not enough for this conversation.”

“So you remember what I told you last time?”

“I was drunk,” she says, pointing a sake bottle at him. He waits for the next part of the sentence, but it never comes.

“Yes.” He finally says, tentatively.

“Yes,” she nods her head, “drunk, but you’re a hard guy to forget. What self-respecting shinobi wears an orange mask?”

He can’t help but snort, sharp and lacking to cover up the humor in it. She is the first to mention it in this world, the first to point out how restricting it is. “We’re not here to talk about me.”

“Aren’t we?” She takes another sip, even as her eyes are suddenly cleared from the fog of alcohol. “You don’t expect me to believe you tracked me down to tell me Konoha is after me.”

He tips his head up in acknowledgement, “I’m here to tell you not to go back.”

“What makes you think I would?”

“They sent Sakumo.”

“And?” She shakes her head as if she can hardly believe such a thing would matter.

“And there’s a war starting,” he tells her, as if she already didn’t know, “they want you back in the village to help with the wounded.”

“Yeah?” She raises an eyebrow, “Well, sensei can keep dreaming.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes,” he says, “because there’s a bigger threat than this war. And one that is a lot more convincing.”

She narrows her eyes, “What are you talking about?”

“What do you know about the rinnegan?”

 

 

 

He leaves the second meeting in time to switch with his clone back at camp, they are a few hours outside of Tsunade’s current town - two weeks of hunting rumors, and another week of dodging leads as best he can to keep Sakumo from finding her. Convincing her of not leaving with them took longer than he would have liked, but it will be worth it in the end.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sakumo says as he comes to sit next to him by the fire. “Already making breakfast?”

“Rice porridge, and don’t call me that.”

A part of him aches at being the reason their mission will fail, especially with the way Sakumo has smiled more since their talk after he killed Danzo. “What? Beautiful? It’s only the truth.”

Obito levels him with a flat look until the man raises his hands in surrender.

The mission would have failed regardless, he tells himself. There is little to nothing that could convince Tsunade to return to the village her brother, and lover died for. Nothing less than Naruto, and Obito is no Naruto. Neither is Sakumo, for all that he has shined some light into Obito’s life. (Not that he’ll ever _tell_ the man that.)

“When do you want to head into the town?”

“After breakfast,” Sakumo says, already rolling up the sleeping mats and sealing them away. “The sooner we get there the more likely it is she’s still there.”

Obito lets out a hum, already scooping porridge into two bowls – it has finished faster than he would have liked, but there is little he can do about that. Tsunade has agreed to Tobi’s demands so he doubts that she’ll change her mind, especially considering the stubborn woman that she is.

“You know,” Sakumo starts as he settles beside him, “Kakashi used to ask me to make this every morning.”

“Rice porridge?” Obito snorts, whether from the humor of the statement or from the fact he can _picture_ it. A smile works its way onto his face as the image of Kakashi’s older-self works its way into his mind, overlapping with the image of the small boy that is currently waiting for his dad to come home.

Sakumo nods, a soft smile slipping over his features as his eyes light up with laughter, “I told him we eat it on missions and he demanded I make it for him.”

“You know he’ll demand protein bars next?”

“Only if he finds out.”

“They’re disgusting enough that maybe we should let him,” Obito suggests, trying to ignore the dry taste that always seems to take over his mouth when he thinks of the horrid food.

“And turn him off becoming a shinobi?”

“Better that then send him to war,” Obito murmurs, the good humor slowly draining from the atmosphere.

“So we really are going to war,” Sakumo huffs, the sound dry with resignation.

“After everything Danzo did, I’m surprised it didn’t start sooner,” he says, honestly, moving just enough that their shoulders are pressed together. A silent show of support more than anything. A well to tell the man without words that it isn’t his fault. That Obito has his back, even if it feels like the world is crashing down around them.

Even if it actually is.

The rest of the morning is spent quietly and but the time they end up in the village it’s just before noon. As good a time as any, really. Coming this late would have given Tsunade over an hour to get into position.

They agreed that letting her be found in this town is for the best, because cutting Sakumo and his partner off now would be better than having them trail after her any longer. Perhaps, she could have continued letting them follow her from bar to bar across each nation, but Obito has better things to do than chasing a failed mission. It was easy enough to convince her of it as well, considering it’s Sakumo coming after her. To take such an asset from the village during a time of growing tension and potential war isn’t a good idea. And for all that she hates what the village has taken from her, she still agreed, once upon a time, to become Hokage. It isn’t that far of a leap to say she wouldn’t want Konoha suffer.

The town is a small thing. A handful of shops and bars make up the street, with only a single inn across from a small gambling house. The streets aren’t narrow so much as winding. People shuffle through the heat to the small market with only four stalls, creating the illusion of a bustling village where there is none. It is quant, and most likely feeling the effects of wars and tensions more than larger villages ever will.

They find her easily enough. She has tucked herself away in a bar with only a handful of other tables. She doesn’t even look up as they approach, Obito hanging back to let Sakumo make the initial contact as someone who has known the woman for longer.

“Sakumo,” she says. Dry and masking any emotion.

“Tsunade,” Sakumo returns, significantly softer, “it’s good to see you.”

“I can’t say the same, under the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she says, and although Obito can’t see her expression he knows that she has just shot him a withering look, “Sensei sent you.”

“Yes. The village needs you.”

“Needs me?” A snort follows the words, “A medic that’s scared of blood?”

“Yes,” Sakumo tells her, sincerity thick in his voice.

“Well, isn’t that too bad,” she says, shaking her head, “because I’m not going back.” She finishes the proclamation by downing the cup of sake that has been sitting in front of her since they entered.

Sakumo pauses, seeming to think over the answer, although there is no shock on his face – Obito doubts that he didn’t expect this. Tsunade left for a reason – for several – and getting her back won’t be so easy. “How about a bet?”

“A bet?”

Sakumo hums, an easy smile spreading across his face, “If you win we leave, if you don’t then you come back with us.”

“What’s the bet?”

 “Tell me what clan my partner is from.”

A spike of frustration – he refuses to call it panic – lodges itself in his ribs. He doesn’t let it show on his face. Forcing his muscles to remain relaxed. It makes so much sense, now, why Sakumo asked him to deactive his sharingan when they entered town. He thought it was to make Tsunade feel more at ease with them, but no. No, Sakumo had anticipated this. Knew that Tsunade would refuse, and knew that he would need a bet to get her back in the village.

And to activate his eyes now would make it too obvious that he wants this mission to fail.

“Can’t be a Hatake,” she hums, tapping her fingers on the bar top, “hairs too white for that.” She trails off at the end, he eyes scanning him up and down for any defining features, but he knows there aren’t any. He never really looked like an Uchiha, and without his sharingan or dark hair his clan becomes even less obvious. “He’s clanless.” She finally decides.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely readers,  
> This chapter is… so very dialogue heavy… but like, it needs to be? And at least it’s long? The next chapter will drive the plot along a bit more, and wow, this story has literally been going on for a year now and I’m not even half-way through. I… don’t know how to feel about this… Except you guys are awesome and supportive and you’re all the best readers ever, and I will fight any author who tries to say otherwise.  
> Anyway, onto the newest chapter! Hope you all enjoy!

“I’m not staying.”

These are the first words out of Tsunade’s mouth as the two of them enter the Hokage’s office. Sakumo having gone off to pick up Obi and Kakashi from the academy; because really, it only takes one shinobi to make an in-person report. And Obito is damn glad that it’s him.

Three words and all his earlier frustrated worry disappears. Not that he didn’t have a backup plan, it’s more that it’s so much simpler to have this fix itself on its own.

Sarutobi takes a long draw from his pipe before replying, “It’s good to see you again, Tsunade.”

“I’m not staying.” The woman repeats, arms crossing over her chest. “I came back to get Shizune and that’s it.”

“You’re taking Shizune?”

“She deserves proper training,” Tsunade says, meeting the man’s eyes squarely, daring him to deny her.

“I asked you back here because of the war,” Sarutobi says steadily, smartly moving the topic away from the woman’s demands. “And to fix our hospital.”

“And I told you that I wasn’t coming back.”

“But here you are.”

“For family.”

“Am I not family? Is Orochimaru not family?”

Tsunade doesn’t waver, standing her ground. “I’ll stay until graduation, sensei. But I’m leaving after that.”

“Is there nothing that can convince you to stay?” There is a weariness to the words, bone deep. The kind that all shinobi gain after years of service, after watching as their comrades fall around them, watching as they suffer loss after loss.

“There’s nothing left to stay for,” Tsunade tells him.

The look in the man’s eyes is resignation as he nods his head. “Until graduation? That’s two months from now. Where will you stay?”

“The old Senju compound.”

“I’ll have ANBU clear it of traps,” he tells her. At those words a guard moves from the shadows and exists the room to report the order.

“Don’t bother, Sensei,” she tells him, taking a few steps back as if preparing to leave, “I can do it myself.”

“We are not done here, Tsunade,” Sarutobi says, stopping her in her tracks. A hand sign and the ANBU leave the room. A burst of chakra and they are sealed in silence. “I need to know if you’ve heard any rumors.”

“Rumors?” She raises an eyebrow, arms crossing.

“About Danzo.” He clarifies, “I need to know what has leaked.”

“That he was a traitor, and killed by one of our own.” Nothing on ROOT’s activities then, which means they have no leaks in the shinobi council. Yet. And, although that says nothing for the civilian one, it means they still have time.

“And what about a creature named Zetsu.” Sarutobi looks from her to Obito and back. “We have been tracking him down, but all the leads are cold.”

“We?”

“Uchiha Obito is leading the search,” Sarutobi directs his eyes, and consequently Tsunade’s to him.

Her eyes narrow, but she faces the Hokage once more before she speaks. “I was approached by a man in an orange mask a few days before Sakumo found me, he mentioned a creature that wanted to destroy the villages.”

“A man in a mask?” Sarutobi’s tone is deceptively calm, precisely intrigued. Obito doesn’t let himself give anything away. He has no care for whether or not Sarutobi knows. Tsunade would not have stayed regardless of his interference, and if the man thinks otherwise then he is deluding himself.

“He told me Zetsu is after the tailed beasts and the rinnegan,” she tells Sarutobi, “he asked me to listen for rumors.”

“Did he say how you would contact him?”

She shook her head, “He said he’d find me.”

“Did he give you a name?”

Tsunade pursed her lips, “It meant ‘flight’ or ‘to fly’. Tobi, I think.”

Sarutobi nods, sitting back into his chair, “You are dismissed. Shizune should be out of the academy already.”

The room is resealed with a burst of chakra once Tsunade leaves. The silence that follows her exit lasts all of a moment. Not that Obito was expecting anything less.

“You sabotaged the mission,” Saruto wastes no time in getting to the point.

“She’s going to help me track Zetsu. She’d be the perfect target,” Obito tells the man, head held high.

“Target?” Obito ignores the way the killing intent in the room rises. Does Sarutobi really think that it would intimidate him? Such a meager illusion compared to the pressure that a goddess exudes.

“She’s a powerful shinobi,” he explains, “who is grieving after the loss of people she loves. People she would give anything to get back.”

“You’re using her as bait?”

“As a spy.” He corrects.

“You would take a medic from our village to spy?” The Hokage demands, voice a blade in the room. The killing intent rises to the point it would have suffocated a lesser shinobi.

“She wasn’t in the village to begin with,” he matches the sharpness in his voice.

“And what if Zetsu doesn’t approach her?”

Obito bites his tongue from answering – to say he has backup plans would only anger the man more, and to point out that one of those is Orochimaru would surely lose him what little respect remains between them. And although Obito doubts the Hokage could imagine the extent to which he has expanded his reach since coming back, he also knows that not answering is answer enough.

The man sets down his pipe harder than is necessary, eyes electric in their anger from whatever conclusion he has come to. “You will consult me on every decision from now on.”

“You’re doubting that I’m doing what’s best for the future,” Obito growls the words, not a question but a fact.

Sarutobi shakes his head, “I doubt that you are doing what’s best for the present. You are fighting a war that hasn’t come yet, I am fighting one that is already upon us.”

“Zetsu is part of this war. He is part of every war,” Obito snaps back.

Sarutobi leans back in his seat, “And how is that you’re so certain?” The words are calmer than before, steady and assessing, almost successful in tone.

Obito’s jaw clicks shut, because Sarutobi trapped him. He had made certain they wouldn’t know of what he had done. Made sure his own role was kept to that of a missing-nin that sacrificed himself for his old comrade. Made certain, because they would not trust him otherwise. Would not be able to understand that he truly has seen the wrong in his methods and is trying to prevent the fourth war instead of start it. Because Naruto is a wonder of their world that does not come around so often. A dreamer with the charisma and draw to reach peace and grasp it by the hand. How could one who has never experienced such a miracle comprehend its existence?

Sarutobi knew Hashirama, sure. But Naruto was something _more._

The silence stretches between them and Obito can _taste_ his anger _,_ feels the emotion hot in his veins. Sarutobi has always been a passive leader, letting the tension build on the hope that a peaceful resolution can be found until it’s too late. Turning a blind eye to problems as if that would make them disappear.

“You’re a fool,” he spits. “You were a fool with Danzo, and a fool with that snake of a student.”

“What does Orochimaru have to do with this?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Obito snorts, “you’ve had shinobi searching through Danzo’s records since I killed him.”

“We’re going to _war_. We can’t afford another internal conflict.”

“But we can afford a traitor in the village?”

“Enough,” Sarutobi’s voice hardens, “I will deal with my student myself.”

Obito grits his teeth, holding his tongue back from commenting – he may be from the future, but this man holds the power in this time, and angering him further won’t bring anything good. The reality is he has limited himself by coming back to Konoha. Something he knew would happen but thought worth the price of seeing those he cares for again without worry of being seen as suspicious.

He can’t say he regrets it.

The same way he doesn’t regret turning on his heal and leaving the Hokage’s office without looking back.

 

 

 

Sakumo almost takes the kids home. He waits until the school yard is practically cleared, until he makes the decision. And even then, at Obi’s request, they wait another few minutes. It isn’t until Tsunade comes through the gates that he understands Obito would be making them wait far longer than he anticipated.

“Sakumo,” Tsunade nods her head, glancing down at Kakashi and Obi as she approaches. “Who are these two?”

“Kakashi,” Sakumo places a hand on his boy’s head, “and Obito.” At the raised eyebrow the name earns him, he simply shrugs one shoulder, a half smile sitting on his lips. “Pups, this is Tsunade, a legendary medic who fought in the second-war.”

“Wow, really?” Obi looks from Sakumo to Tsunade with sparkling eyes, voice full of excitement and the promise of questions. While Kakashi looks at the woman in assessment, a spark of respect and energy tucked away behind the attitude Sakumo still hasn’t managed to break his son out of.

“Yeah, shrimp, really,” Tsunade snorts out, “and you better not forget it.”

A scoffing laugh comes from Kakashi at Obi’s protest again the nickname, the noise making Tsunade zero in on his son. Sakumo feels a small amount of pity for his pup, but Kakashi does have to learn at some point.

“What’s so funny, pip-squeak?”

“Pip-squeak?” Kakashi repeats the word, as if he can’t believe he heard it right.

Before Tsunade can say any more, Sakumo interjects, knowing that his pup’s ability to rile even adults has never ended well for anyone. “What brings you to the academy, Hime?”

“I’m here to pick up Shizune.” Tsunade replies, eying Sakumo. “I have no plans of staying, Hatake. After she graduates, I’m leaving and taking her with me to train.”

“What about the bet?” Sakumo raises an eyebrow.

“I agreed to coming back, but I never agreed to staying.” Tsunade met his gaze evenly, a dare to deny her words. A dare to try and claim any other reality. “I already talked with sensei about it.”

Sakumo frowns, “And he agreed?”

She snorts, “That’s one way to put it.”

“So that’s why Obito’s taking so long.” He thinks out loud. The Hokage was probably reprimanding Obito about the failed mission, and that they were meant to not only bring her back but have her remain in the village for more than a couple months. It doesn’t feel right, however, something in him warring against the thought. But Tsunade is already speaking, drawing him away from chasing the sensation any further in that moment.

“Sensei seemed pretty mad when I left.” Tsunade hums, as she looks around the clearing in search of Shizune. “You two seem close, even for partners.”

“I found him unconscious in lightening a while ago.” Sakumo gives a humorous smile at the memory, but it soon morphs into a halfhearted shrug, “He seemed like he could use a friend.”

“Friend?” Tsunade shakes her head, “Is that what their calling it now?”

Sakumo chuckles. “He _is_ pretty.” There is a spark in his chest that belongs to Obito, it is so close to _‘pack’_ and _‘mine’_ he can hardly tell the difference. It’s there for Obi, as well; that instinctual, primal, urge to protect. And Sakumo has let it grow. He hadn’t lied, Obito _did_ seem like he could use a friend, and Obi a family _._ Sakumo had decided almost the second he saw them at the academy that first time. Decided so fast that there might as well have been no decision at all. A pack of two is nice. Just him and Kakashi. But the Hatake are partnered with wolves for a reason. Are descended from them. So, while a pack of two is _fine,_ a pack of four makes something in him settle. And something else howl.

“You like him, don’t you?”

Before Sakumo can respond Shizune comes out of the academy building, a few books balanced in her arms. It catches Tsunade’s eye at the same time. She steps away then, turning on her heal and leaving to greet her niece without a backwards glance.

“You should come by the compound sometime,” he calls after her.

“Maybe.” She doesn’t look back as she says it, but coming from Tsunade that might as well be agreement.

As she walks away Sakumo starts herding his own pups off to the compound, trusting that Obito will be able to figure out their location. After all, he doubts Sarutobi is going to let him out any time soon if what Tsunade said is anything to go by. Which, Sakumo holds in a frown, is stranger than he wants to admit. The sensation of _wrong_ from before comes back, and this time there is no distraction to stop him from following it.

The mission failed or not, Tsunade was always going to blaze her own path, and to be reprimanded for so long without the other shinobi on the mission present is not something he thinks Sarutobi would do.

Sakumo isn’t stupid, he’s noticed Obito’s more peculiar habits; the way he keeps his sharingan activated, the way he looks at places built while he was out of the village with nostalgia, or the way he reacted at Kushina and Minato’s home. Any shinobi worth their salt would notice it, given enough time, and Sakumo has had nothing _but_ time with Obito. The Uchiha is hiding something, that much is obvious. Sakumo just doesn’t know _what._

Whatever it is, the Hokage seems to know, although Sakumo doubts the man would tell him if he asked. And it doesn’t seem to change that Obito and his little nephew have somehow become pack; family in a way that only time together could create. It just means that he’ll wait until Obito tells him, or he figures it out himself.

“How was your time with Kushina and Minato?” He asks the pups as they enter the compound. There is a dusty smell to it, but he expected that. After a month away, and with Kakashi out of the house there would be no one to clean.

“Kushina is the _best_ ,” Obi tells him, “she makes the best ramen!”

Kakashi huffs, “Her eggplant soup is better.”

“Is not,” Obi sticks his tongue out at the other boy.

Sakumo smiles, soft and humored, “And the seal?”

Obi looks down, the bravado that had built up in preparation to fight Kakashi suddenly drained. “She said she got rid of it.”

“That’s good,” Sakumo says.

“But-,” the boy starts, his goggles falling over to cover his eyes as he looks back up. “But what if she didn’t get all of it? What if-.”

Sakumo places a hand on Obi’s head, squatting down to be at the boy’s level. “Do you trust Kushina and Minato?”

“Of course!”

“Then you can trust that they got it all.”

He stands back up to let the boy think it over, moving towards the kitchen in the hopes that at least _something_ is still edible. The rice, at least, will still be good. But everything in the fridge has to be cleared. He doesn’t particularly want to leave the boys on their own, not after being gone for so long already. And sending a clone to the market place isn’t exactly the _best_ idea – one bump or stray kunai and his groceries are lost.

“Looks like we’ll be waiting for Obito to get home,” he mutters to himself, closing the fridge and pantries.

 

 

 

Obito uses kamui to appear in the mountain graveyard. The only place he knows that no one else will stumble upon and that he doesn’t mind destroying. (And if there is the slightest chance that Zestu may have returned – that it may lead to a trail – then, really, Obito can’t be blamed for trying.)

The stench of the cold cave and Madara’s stale blood only makes the anger in him boil hotter. With a shout he spins and punches the wall. He doesn’t cushion the blow with chakra. Lets the rough stone cut his knuckles and basks in the ache that it causes.

Sarutobi’s a fool. A coward and a fool. God of Shinobi, that’s what they call him. But Obito knows. Knows that his hesitance will cost them. Cost those he cares about. Cost Konoha. Cost the _world._

With a growl he punches the wall again, his chakra reaching up to answer his call as he lets roots and branches burst up from the floor. The trees growing just tall enough to not bring down the cave around him. He stares. Stares at the product of Madara’s experimentation.

He burns it.

Watches as the leaves and wood turn to ash before him. Lets the cave fill with soot and fire and smoke. Watches the way the leaves burn, slowly and then all at once. But the tight feeling of frustration doesn’t go away. The teeth-grinding fury at Sarutobi’s passivity doesn’t go away. It stays even as the wood turns to cinders and the cinders turn to nothing. It stays as the smoke slowly clears and the heat of the inferno starts to be lost amongst the cold of the cave. The last of the sparks are still giving off a flickering of light as his back hits a wall, the heat of the stone seeping through his clothes and into his skin as he slides to sit, knees drawn up.

Going back to Konoha was a mistake. He knows that now.

Obito leans his head back against the wall, eyes closed to the world. It was a mistake. One he can so easily fix if he simply doesn’t return. Danzo is taken care of, Orochimaru will soon defect, and Tsunade will leave. That is all that he needs to do there; finished. All that he needs to do to find Zetsu has been completed. Now it’s just waiting and searching. Listening to rumors. And all of that can so easily be done outside of Konoha.

There is no need to remain.

But.

_But._

Obito holds in a laugh, trapping the humorless sound in his throat – there is always a _but,_ isn’t there? Because he may not _need_ to remain in Konoha, but he _wants_ to. Wants to stay. For his younger-self, for Rin, for Kakashi, and for Sakumo. Wants to stay and help the village change. To use Konoha’s influence to push for peace, and no child soldiers. To push for the world that his illusion would have created and make it a reality. To watch his younger-self grow up, and know that, should things have gone differently, he would have been more sane. To watch team seven find themselves again, and to make it through the war – whole and intact. To listen to Mikoto and nudge the Uchiha to open their compound. To watch Minato rise to power. To meet Naruto again. To spend time with Sakumo and go on missions. To listen to the man’s terrible flirting. To keep his promise to Rin.

He doesn’t need to stay.

But he wants to.

He remains in the cave a while longer, lets the memories of what it used to mean wash over him like a rainstorm. A few hours pass. Maybe more, before he opens his eyes again. Before he starts to rise to his feet in anticipation of appearing in Sakumo’s home – no doubt in his mind that the man took Obi back to the Hatake compound.

There’s a flicker that catches his eyes, however. Just on the edges of his vision. A shadow. Something that could easily be waved away as a trick of the eye in such a dark place. But Obito knows better. Has seen Zetsu emerge from the shadows enough to know what it looks like. With a silent growl he throws himself after the movement, diving deeper into the system of caves. Pausing only long enough to let his sharingan scan the walls before moving again as he catches what can only be Zetsu just in time.

There is every reason to believe that this is a trap. Every reason to think that the creature is tricking him; testing him; trying to kill him. And every reason Obito doesn’t _care._ This is the closest Obito has been to Zetsu since coming back in time, and he isn’t about to waste the opportunity that it presents. Trap or no trap.

He skids to a stop in one of the smaller chambers that make up the surrounding areas of the cave system – if he remembers correctly this is one of the rooms he used to meet with Konan and Yahiko. With a small tunnel that let upwards this cave would be the starting point of carving out the rest of the Akatsuki base.

The silence in the room would be unnerving to anyone else – but Obito had lived in the silence of his cave for so long that it sickeningly feels like coming home. There are no more flickers. No more movement of shadow, and it makes frustration rise inside him. Thick and choking for a split second.

“We knew you would return.” The voice comes from the walls, but in the chamber it echoes and makes it near impossible to tell the direction. **“It was you, wasn’t it?** ” The creature continues, “That killed Madara and stole our statue.”

“Don’t worry,” Obito growls, eyes still scanning the room, senses reaching out desperately, “you’re next.” And maybe he should be more worried – more surprised – that white Zetsu is there as well, but he has long since stopped being wrong footed by such simple things. Frustrated, perhaps. Angered. But more than ready to adjust.

“It’s the eyes,” Zetsu says, the voice sounding curious and entirely too calm – casual in a way that makes the hairs on the back of Obito’s neck rise.

It starts with a tremble. If Obito wasn’t focusing so much on trying to pinpoint Zetsu’s voice he would have noticed the implications. But he doesn’t. Lets it slide over him as he continues to scan the room.

Roots shoot from the floor moments later, and Obito dodges instinctively, but they pass by all too easily and shove themselves into the ceiling. Fast and destructive enough that he only has time to feel his heart skip a beat as the first of the boulders fall.

They don’t touch him.

He appears in Sakumo’s house in a whirl of chakra before they can get close enough. Not even bothering to react to the tanto that makes itself at home against his throat. Barely even reacting to Sakumo’s confused, “Obito?”

Distantly he knows that his muscles are trembling. Distantly he knows that Sakumo is repeating his name and that the pressure on his arms is Sakumo’s hands.

Distantly, because it takes more time than he would like to move past the feeling of being crushed. To move past the images of a crying Rin and a scared Kakashi.

“Obito,” Sakumo says, again. Obito thinks he likes the way the man says his name, soft and like it matters. “Obito, I need you to follow my voice, okay?”

Obito isn’t sure what Sakumo means; follow his voice where? The Hatake is right in front of him. He intends to tell the man as much, but all that comes out when he opens his mouth is stifled, “Sakumo.”

He’s being moved, the hands on his arms pushing lightly until his knees hit the back of something soft. The couch, he notes as he sits down, even as the room around them flickers to dirt and stone.

It takes another few moments to drag himself back from the pain and the memories, to try and wrestle them back under his control. Zetsu will pay for that. For trying to kill him in such a way. The worst part, however, is that the creature has seen his face. _Knows_ what he looks like, and most likely that he’s an Uchiha with mokuton, depending on how long the shadow had been lurking.

“Obito.” Sakumo’s voice draws him back into the room. He doesn’t ask if he’s okay, and Obito is relieved for that because he doesn’t know how he would answer if Sakumo did. But perhaps the question he does ask is worse. “What happened?”

_‘Where did you go?’_

The question hangs between them, and Obito isn’t sure he has an answer – not one that will be acceptable by all accounts. A lie would be too obvious, but he isn’t sure the truth is all that believable either.

“Tsunade’s not staying,” he tells the man instead.

“I know,” Sakumo says, gaze staying steady, “she came to the academy to pick Shizune up.”

“The Hokage’s not happy about it.” He tries to keep the words lighthearted, but the look in Sakumo’s eyes tells him he’s fallen short.

They fall into silence. A classic technique to keep someone talking, to make them fill the air with something, _anything_ as the weight of their own thoughts in the quiet becomes too much.

Obito cracks a smile, but he can feel its strain and knows how weak it must look, “What, no flirting with this interrogation?”

Sakumo’s eyes are calculating, but soft, and his lips twitch slightly in humor, “Should this be an interrogation?”

“I didn’t kill the Hokage, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I know,” Sakumo huffs, “I went to his office after I put the kids to bed, he said you left not long after Tsunade.”

“Oh,” he says, entirely eloquent.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sakumo says, squeezing the hand that Obito hadn’t even realized the man was holding. “Just- I’m here if you want to talk.”

There are a few beats of silence, before Obito speaks again, “It was a miscalculation.”

Sakumo raises both eyebrows at that, a spark of laughter in his eyes, “Must have been one hell of a miscalculation.”

“You could say that,” Obito huffs, “but I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Sakumo frowns, “Obito, you’ve been gone all night, and you smell like ashes and blood.”

He blinks, not having thought of the Hatake’s enhanced senses and what his little excursion must have left him smelling like. Quiet falls over them once more, Sakumo not pressing and Obito not offering any more information.

“Uncle!” Obi’s voice breaks through the silence. The boy slides to a stop in front of him, all warm smiles and bright eyes, “Did you know Kushina makes the _best_ ramen. But Sakumo’s porridge is just as good, and that-.”

Obito feels a smile tug at his lips as his younger-self rambles on, a warm feeling settling into his chest at the way his eyes spark with excitement. Kakashi comes into the room soon after Obi tells him about meeting Tsunade, the young Hatake’s nose scrunching up.

“Why do you smell like a fire?” The boy asks, looking up at him with a confused tilt to his head.

Obito’s smile doesn’t waver, “It’s a long story.”

“And one that he’ll be telling later,” Sakumo speaks up before Kakashi can say any more, “you two need to get to the academy before you’re late.” If Sakumo hadn’t talked with him earlier, hadn’t said it was okay not to tell him, then Obito would have taken the words as a demand rather than what they are. Trust. Sakumo trusts Obito to tell him everything when he’s ready. The sentiment shouldn’t make his heart squeeze in his chest nearly as much as it does.

“But-.” Kakashi starts, only to stop as Sakumo raises an eyebrow. With a huff Kakashi grabs Obi’s wrist and starts walking off, muttering about letting Obi borrow some clothes for the day.

They walk the boys to the academy gates, watching as the two hurry off to class – it nostalgic, in ways that don’t hurt like they had the first time he saw his younger-self. Bitter, but entirely too sweet at the same time to be truly painful.

“I should probably tell the Hokage I didn’t defect,” Obito mutters in the moments after the boys disappear into the building.

“Probably.” Sakumo agrees.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Ello lovely readers,  
> So… I’ve been gone for a while, and I don’t really have an excuse. I mean, senior year is kicking my ass (long story short I’ve managed to get enough credits to graduate early and now my advisers won’t leave me alone) … Anyway! I also wanted to reach out to any Chinese speaking fanfiction authors (or readers who know authors) and ask if any of you would be willing to be interviewed (not in person or on the phone; over a messaging app)? – If you comment I’ll explain everything but I want to keep this author note from getting too long so I’ll stop it there - But, on the brighter side of things, this chapter is pretty long ^^ I hope you all enjoy!

They’re getting dango when Mikoto and Kushina track them down. Not that Obito is entirely surprised, but he had thought that Mikoto would lose interest in him eventually. Would stop feeling the need to try and integrate him back into a clan that he could never really call his own. It seems he was wrong.

“What’s this I hear about you having to tell the Hokage you didn’t defect?” Mikoto slides into the seat next to his as Kushina slips into the one by Sakumo.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he says, not even bothering to stop the woman from taking one of the dango sticks. They were getting them for the kids, anyway, and the less sweets Obi eats the better off he is for training.

“Uh-huh.” Mikoto raises an eyebrow at him. “And how did Hokage-sama take your apology?”

“Apology?” Sakumo snorts a laugh before Obito can even open his mouth, “He barged in during a council meeting and told the Hokage he wasn’t a missing-nin, and to talk with him if the ‘old-man’ came to his senses.”

“You just pissed him off more, y’know.” Kushina laughs, a smile on her face. “But I have to say you got guts, Uchiha.”

Obito shrugs one shoulder, shifting in his seat to get a better look at the redhead, “I never said thanks for helping Obi.” If anyone notices the sudden change in topic they don’t mention it, and for that Obito is grateful. Sakumo did not embellish in the slightest, and he would rather not have to explain what he meant by the Hokage coming to his senses.

Kushina waves a hand at him, “He’s a sweet kid. Bit of a knucklehead, but sweet.”

“Didn’t Minato say something about that?” Mikoto asks, leaning into the counter more. There is a slyness in her voice, like she knows exactly what whatever Kushina is about to say will do to Obito. It makes stones fill his stomach, even as he keeps a relaxed face.

“Oh, yeah,” Kushina gives a half-smile, crooked with humor and fondness. “Pretty-boy said he wanted our son to be like Obi.”

“Your son?” Obito felt a surge of panic – they hadn’t been pregnant this early on last time, right? All he has done to change the timeline hadn’t changed _this_ , right? Surely, this dimension wasn’t so different that Naruto would be born this many years early?

“We’re planning to try once one of us becomes Hokage,” Kushina says as she tips her head to one side, her hair a cascade of red locks even as it’s pulled into a pony-tail. “That way at least one of us will be in the village to look after the squirt at all times.”

“Oh.” The noise comes out faint, drowned by Sakumo’s own well-wishes and Mikoto’s hum of agreement at the logic. The panic that had been near boiling under his skin falls away to relief. Naruto will be born.

Kushina waves their comments off with a hum, “Enough about me, tell me about you two.” The smile that starts to spread across her face would look more at home on a fox than the redhead before them.

Obito nearly chokes on his own tongue, “What?”

“Mikoto told me everything,” Kushina says, bright like she isn’t making the world crumble around them, “and, I mean, _everyone_ is talking about you two. I just wanted to hear it from the source, ya’know.”

Glancing at Sakumo reveals the man is just as shocked at the topic of discussion as Obito is. “Talking about us?” Sakumo gets out.

“Yeah.” Kushina nods, “You’re together, right?”

Obito’s face is burning, and all he wants to do is sink into the ground. When he tries to speak it jumbles in his mouth, stuttering through his lips without control, “We’re not- it’s not… we’re not like that.”

Sakumo says nothing, simply glances over at him and Obito can feel his face turn a shade redder. Because for all that Obito can ignore Sakumo’s own flirting, can push it off as nothing more than playful teasing – even as he knows it’s not – he can’t deny that he _enjoys_ it. Can’t deny that he likes spending time with Sakumo, appreciates the man’s company in way that he hasn’t experienced in so long. Can’t deny that Sakumo _is_ attractive. And yet he knows better than to become anymore attached. Knows that Zetsu will poke at any weakness he can, will take and take until all Obito has left is nothing. Knows that the larger part of him doesn’t care. That Sakumo is a capable shinobi. But Obito is trying to be less selfish, trying to do what is right. And putting Sakumo in that kind of danger can’t very well fall within that range.

“But you two would make such a cute couple,” Kushina says with a sigh.

“Besides,” Mikoto jumps in, “I already told the elders.”

“You told the elders?” Obito feels his stomach sink, because there would be no reason for the elders to take interest in his love life – or lack thereof – unless they-

“They’ve been talking of arranging a marriage,” Mikoto says, voice rich with her own disapproval at the idea.

“For my eyes.” He doesn’t make it a question. The elders wouldn’t force a marriage for any other reason than political or to produce more Uchiha. And with how the sharingan’s abilities are genetically linked as far as they can tell, it would make sense that they would want to produce more potential assets. There is, as well, the off chance that his mokuton would pass on, however unlikely. The elders would not pass up such opportunities.

“They’re still demanding to know what you can do,” Mikoto tells him.

“They can bite me.” Obito growls.

Mikoto’s lips tip into a smile, too sharp for humor, “Obito, they’ve talked about getting Obi to activate his mangekeyou.”

The blood in his veins runs hot with anger, an inferno ready to burn through anything in its path. They are fools if they think Obito will let that happen. If they think that he won’t destroy them before they can even touch anyone he cares for. He has worked too hard to keep them safe.

“Where are the elders now?”

“Having a meeting in the compound.” Mikoto watches him with calculating eyes, she knows he’s planning something. And she knows that it will bring nothing good, but there is a viscous satisfaction in watching the elders face consequences for their schemes and actions.

“Good.”

“Obito?” Sakumo’s hand comes to rest on his arm and Obito takes a breath before looking at the man. The embarrassment from before has been washed away, but looking at Sakumo brings a tight feeling of protectiveness in his chest. The elders would go after him as well if they thought it could bring Obito around. Would threaten Sakumo and Kakashi in a heartbeat if it got them what they want.

Obito has no intentions of letting them.

“I’m just going to talk with them,” he tells Sakumo.

“I’m coming with you.”

Obito opens his mouth to say _‘no’,_ to tell the man that this is a clan matter. But the words never come. Sakumo is a clanhead, for all that the Hatake are small, and still holds weight in the village even if it’s less than the Uchiha. It would also show more strength – a unity if it were. And that Obito does not need the Uchiha’s political protection because Sakumo is at his back.

“Me too.” Kushina chimes in. “Obi’s a good kid. Those elders can keep their grubby hands to themselves.”

To have Kushina at his back as well, Obito concedes, would only prove further that he has no use for the Uchiha clan. It would be a standoff of political power instead of the threats of death he had planned. And it would work.

Mikoto does not make the same offer, and Obito does not blame her. She is the matriarch of the clan, and so needs to work her way through its politics in a more subtle way.

He reaches around to grab Kushina by the shoulder, “This may feel strange.”

They appear in the middle of the elder’s meeting. The hushed silence that falls over the room as their presence becomes apparent is music is his ears.

“I think it’s time we talked.”

The smile that he gives them is not a nice one.

 

 

 

By the time they make it out of the meeting hall the academy has long since let out. But the elders won’t lay a finger on Obi anytime soon, at least if they want to keep their limbs intact.

When they arrive at the academy Mikoto is there, sitting with Obi and Kakashi as the two eat the dango bought for them earlier. It makes a small smile come to his lips, eyes softening as the headache that built during the meeting with the elders dissipates. Rin is there as well, sitting by Obi, the sight of her leaving a pang in his chest, while Gai sits on the other side of Kakashi. All of them with a dango in hand and smiles spread across their faces.

They barely manage to take two steps towards the kids when an explosion bursts in the Hokage’s building, sending jagged chunks of shrapnel flying towards them.

Obito doesn’t even think. Can hardly even remember reacting at all, really.

Between one breath and the next all the kids, and Mikoto and Sakumo as well, are in the Hatake compound. Safe. Far enough away that they’ll have time to escape should whatever is happening reach them. He, himself, is already at the sight of the explosion, following the trials of a battle towards the Hokage’s mountain, until he comes face to face with Orochimaru lashing out against Sarutobi and Tsunade. Several ANBU strewn around at their feet.

“Orochimaru, please stop this,” Sarutobi is saying as Obito comes close enough. He doesn’t interfere, doesn’t even try. Sarutobi sees this as a personal matter, as he has made it clear before. To step in in any way as himself, as _Obito,_ now would only cause more trouble than he already has. This was always coming, even if it came slightly earlier than what he remembers in his own dimension. Perhaps he could have saved Orochimaru. Perhaps. But he is not a sun, nor is he a candle. To save a snake that has already made its nest would take a light much brighter than what he can offer.

“Don’t be a fool, sensei,” Orochimaru says, “I can’t stop when I’m so close.”

Obito cannot see Sarutobi’s face, but he has no doubt that it is pained. He takes a silent step back, letting kamui whisk him away from the scene so he may prepare. Orochimaru will need to escape, and who better to help than Tobi?

Of course, however, Sarutobi lets Orochimaru escape past Konoha’s walls without further incident. He is soft. And this just proves it further, regardless of how it works in Obito’s favor. There wasn’t even a need to step in. Which, Obito thinks as he suppresses his chakra further, was for the best seeing as Sakumo appears moments after Orochimaru’s getaway.

He doesn’t watch any further, simply slips into the shadows and follows the darkness out into the woods surrounding Konoha. With a touch of mokuton he lets the forest come alight around him – sensing out Orochimaru’s movements in the oncoming night.

“It’s about time,” Tobi swings down from a branch above Orochimaru, stuck upside down by chakra. “I was beginning to think you’d had a change of heart.”

“You, again.” The snake scowls.

“You don’t look so happy to see me,” he says, pitching his voice to fake hurt. “After all I’ve told you, too.”

“Ah, yes,” the words come out on a hiss, “your promises of immortality and a village. You didn’t think I actually believed that, did you?”

Tobi tilts his head, a hum in his throat as he observes the snake’s narrow-eyed gaze. “But you did.” He falls from his place, landing a branch away from Orochimaru. “The same way you will help me track down the sanbi.”

“Oh?” the snake laughs, the weight of his chakra rising thick around them.

Perhaps letting a sannin blow a hole through his torso isn’t the _best_ way to get a point across, but it is the _fastest._ Seeing as how he is still very much alive and talking as the snake pulls back from the attack.

“How rude,” he snips, “you know, you should make an anger management department in your new village.”

“How?” Orochimaru demands, all sharp edges and shock.

“I don’t think I’ll tell you,” Tobi says, a pout on his lips that he is _sure_ comes through in his voice as well. He crosses his arms for emphasis, turning his head away just enough to seem petulant but not so much as to lose sight of the snake entirely.

Orochimaru pauses at this, his chakra receding – however slowly – as he stares at Tobi as if waiting for a genjutsu to break. After a minute passes the snake finally breaks the silence, “Why do you need the sanbi?”

“That’s for me to know,” he tells the man with cheer, “but snake-san should find the sanbi soon.”

“How will I contact you?” Orochimaru grits out, obviously displeased with the situation but not willing to give up his chances at immortality.

“Meet me at the Tenchi bridge in a month.” He doesn’t wait for the snake’s response. Simply lets himself melt back into the shadows before activating kamui and appearing back in his own dimension.

With a huff he discards his ruined clothes, ripping the mask from his face and holding a hand to his stomach where the flesh has been torn away. It is healing, but not fast enough for him to head back to Konoha. Still, staying away for too long will be more suspicious than an injury. With gritted teeth he pulls on the clothes he had been wearing when he left, ignoring the way blood soaks the front of his shirt within moments. He rips the torso open, and with a scream that tears itself from his throat he presses a mild katon jutsu into his stomach – burning flesh and clothes alike. Explaining this to Sakumo without being caught in a lie won’t be easy, but it will be easier than explaining an extended absence – because for all the man has been accommodating, Obito knows there are limits to that understanding. Especially in the wake of one of the sannin’s betrayals. (He cares little for Sarutobi’s assessment of his answer, the man would not believe him regardless of what truths he spins into his lie. And to say that the Hokage’s opinion matters to him would be to claim Madara’s sanity as well.)

He appears in the Hokage’s office, letting himself stumble slightly as he becomes tangible, hand over his still-injured stomach. Presentation is everything in situations like these, after all.

“Obito?” Sakumo’s voice draws his attention first, and really it isn’t surprising that the Hatake is here, but the relief he feels _is._

“Sakumo,” he offers a smile; he’s sure there some blood in it.

“What happened?”

“Orochimaru happened,” he huffs. Breathing hurts, but it is nothing he can’t handle – hasn’t handled before. Minato hit twice as hard, and Kaguya hit twice as painful. He takes a breath as Sakumo comes forward, inspecting the injury, “I used a fire jutsu to stop the bleeding.”

“You fool,” Sakumo mutters, the words drowning in concern and exacerbated fondness.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, trying to back away from the Hatake’s inscrutable gaze. “I heal fast.”

“Fast or not,” Tsunade speaks up, “you should be in the hospital.”

Obito glances towards her, taking in her tense body and the way her eyes are set resolutely on her sensei. Still scared of blood then, he concludes – or, at least blood brought about through injury.

“Really,” Obito says, forcing a smile as he brings himself to stand up straight and ignore the way it pulls at his healing wound, “there’s no need.”

“Go to the hospital,” the Hokage interrupts any further argument on the topic. “And, Obito,” he continues, “I’ll be calling in Jiraiya.”

Obito opens his mouth to protest, but Sakumo is already tugging at his arm and leading him out of the room before he can even get farther than, “Don’t-.”

“You don’t like Jiraiya?” Sakumo asks, his voice more amused than concerned, as they make their way towards the hospital.

“He is a perverted fool with no sense of responsibility.” Obito grounds out, letting the words burn acid over his tongue and hoping that, somehow, Jiraiya hears them.

The man had left Naruto to grow up alone – had been the blond’s _godfather_ and abandoned the boy until he saw some use for him. Obito had cared little at the time as it worked to his advantage to isolate Naruto. Now, however, he can’t help the anger he has towards the sannin. (But that is not all, really. Obito doesn’t want the pervert to know about his connections to the past – different dimension or not. Doesn’t want the sannin anywhere near his plans, or knowledge of the future. Obito stands by what he said. The less who know the better. Zetsu has eyes and ears everywhere, and now that he knows _who_ Obito is it is unlikely that he hasn’t already started listening in on some of his conversation with the Hokage. Spying on Konoha and all her allies.)

“I can see how his… habits can be questionable,” Sakumo concedes, “but he is loyal to this village and to his team.”

Obito can’t help but snort, “Loyalty doesn’t make him a good man.”

“Are any of us really good?” Sakumo says. Soft. Caught between a whisper and hope that perhaps the truth is anything but reality.

Obito thinks of Rin, of Naruto, and of Obi. He thinks of Sakumo going against orders for his teammates and facing a village of hate for what he knew was right. He licks his lips, trying to chase away the erratic beat of his heart, “You are.” The words are not loud. Not a declaration of care or comradery. They come as a bird song – wishing for freedom and a better world; wishing that the truth of them was not so in their reality. For good men always die too young, or risk losing that which makes them so.

Sakumo meets his gaze with wide grey eyes, a wonder in them that has Obito’s skin feeling too tight.

He looks away first. Ducks his head and watches as the wind picks up bits of dirt that haven’t been packed into the road.

“Who’s flirting now?” Sakumo recovers, breaking the silence between them.

Obito snorts, a smile coming to his face unbidden, “You wish, mutt.”

Sakumo chuckles, but it is short lived as his face grows serious. “You said your eyes let you go through solid objects,” he starts. “That’s not all they can do, is it?”

“No,” he says after a pause, “they allow me to sort of teleport myself and others.”

“Like Minato’s kunai,” Sakumo says more to himself than Obito.

“Not exactly,” he tells the man. At Sakumo’s confused gaze he shakes his head, “It’s easier if I just show you.” It’s not like Minato’s jutsu, really – the blond’s is based on moving within the same dimension from one point to another. His own deals with using a different dimension as a stepping stone of sorts. The only true similarity is the fact they both deal in space and time within a single technique. But Obito can’t blame the Hatake for making the connection – time-space jutsu are not common and even less commonly explained.

“Later,” Sakumo says before he can even bring up the chakra. “After you’ve seen the doctor.”

 

 

 

Sakumo brings Obi and Kakashi to the hospital less than an hour after the doctor leaves with orders to rest. They wrapped his stomach after working on it for an hour that felt like forever – the invasion of foreign chakra into his system leaving him more than a little on edge.

“Are you going to die?” Is the first thing that Obi asks him as he clambers onto Obito’s hospital bed.

Obito snorts, his lips twitching as he takes in his nephew’s rumpled state, “I’m not going to die.” He remembers the fear that Obi’s eyes hold. Remembers the rush of adrenaline when his grandmother left after he learned to cook his first meal. Remembers the pain of watching other children with their parents, and the tight knot in his chest that Rin would realize she didn’t want to be his friend anymore.

There are tears as Obi throws his arms around Obito’s neck. It’s the first time the boy has hugged him – has even tried. It leaves him shocked for a moment, unsure how to respond. Slowly, though, he brings his arms up, wrapping around the boy in a return of his embrace.

Obito glances at Sakumo over the mess of dark hair in his face to find the Hatake’s eyes are soft. Warm in a way that rivals the sun. It catches something in his chest, fragile like glass it sits right behind his ribs, bursting with each breath, and wrapping tighter around his heart with each beat.

He doesn’t want to let it go.

“How about we get take out and head home?” Obito says before he can help it. The request draws everyone’s attention – breaking the silent peace in the room but not the fragile _thing_ in his chest.

Sakumo raises an eyebrow as the children cheer, “Didn’t the doctor say you need to rest?”

Obito matches his expression, “What kind of shinobi would I be if I listened?”

“The kind that doesn’t get dragged back here.”

“Like they could catch me,” he says, rolling his eyes. He pushes Obi up and off him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed in order to stand. He can feel Sakumo’s eyes on his bandaged stomach, and he knows the man is concerned, but he has lived through worse. He’s pulling his sandals on when a mass of dark-blue fabric is held in front of him. He blinks at if for a moment before reaching out and taking the shirt into his hands.

“You can’t go around in just bandages,” Sakumo tells him with amusement, “just don’t ruin it this time.”

“I’ll try my best,” he says dry as dust, slipping into the shirt. It is big on him. Broader in the shoulders and with sleeves that reach just past the center of his palms, but it will do until he can get one from his dimension.

They end up with four bowls of ramen – not from Ichiraku, as they haven’t opened yet, but he’s sure it will taste good all the same – and with not a single nurse trying to track Obito down. The boys finish first, already up and running towards the yard without pause, shouts of challenges passing between them. A clone pops into existence and follows the two out the door, “It’s a wood clone,” he tells Sakumo, “it can take a few hits before it pops.”

Sakumo simply hums at this explanation, “Let’s hope it doesn’t need to.”

“With those boys?” Obito’s lips turn up into a laugh that he smothers in his chest; the sound would have been bitter and too nostalgic to be explainable. Instead he reaches out and grabs the Hatake’s wrist, letting chakra pool in his eyes in preparation to split apart the very fabric of the universe. “I told you I would explain,” he says with caution, an uncertainty caught in his chest that he can’t quit crush.

Sakumo meets his gaze unwavering, “Alright.”

Obito nods, letting the world around them fade away to be replaced by towering pillars of grey, and a sky as dark as a starless night. There are very few who Obito has brought here – and even then, it was during a _war._

Logically, he knows there is no reason that he _has_ to tell Sakumo about his dimension. Logically, he knows, that there is no reason he has to explain anything to the Hatake. He could have agreed. Could have said it was like Minato’s jutsu and moved on. But Sakumo has _trusted_ him. Has backed off in situation where Obito knows others would have pushed for more – where _he_ would have pushed for more.

For all that he likes to think he has kept his secrets under wraps he is not blind to the fact Sakumo has witnessed more than enough to be suspicious. Obito is not so short-sighted as to think Sakumo has not drawn his own conclusions, that the Hatake has not _wanted_ to push and know what exactly Obito has been doing. The White Fang did not gain such notoriety from simply being good in battle and having a few flashy lightening jutsu, after all.

To show his own dimension seems like a small price to pay for the warmth that Sakumo has shown him and Obi. After all, the Hatake did not _have_ to seek them out – could have left Obi to wait alone that day. Could have left Obito out in those woods in Lightening Country, or even killed him where he lay. There was no reason for the Hatake to offer companionship – friendship even.

And yet…

And yet, here they are; standing in a world that is all Obito’s own. A world that is a sanctuary of sorts.

“This is my kamui dimension,” he says before Sakumo can speak up, (from the looks of it, however, the Hatake is far too speechless to even get a word out). He licks his lips, “When I said my eyes aren’t like Minato’s jutsu it’s because his skirts the edges of our dimension, mine brings you here.”

Sakumo scans the world, eyes wide as he takes everything in, “But why didn’t I see this when you sent us home?”

“You weren’t here long enough,” Obito explains, watching as Sakumo runs his fingers over a pillar, “it’s like a stepping stone.” He starts moving away towards where he keeps a stash of extra clothes, letting the Hatake explore as he pulls off the shirt Sakumo let him borrow.

“You keep clothes in here?” Sakumo calls.

With a shrug Obito pulls one of his own shirts over his head, “No one else come here.” He looks towards the Hatake, finding the man still inspecting the pillars with his back towards Obito.

Sakumo hums, looking back at Obito over his shoulder, a smile lifting his lips, “It’s incredible.”

Obito rolls his eyes, “Flattery, again, Hatake?”

Sakumo’s eyes take a soft edge to them as he turns and approaches Obito, there is something in his smile that Obito can’t identify. An edge that isn’t an edge. A warmth that is closer to the chill that runs up his spine.

Obito knows Sakumo is attractive. Has known.

Has known that the comments, the glances, and the looks that are too fond are more than banter and jokes. Has known and chosen to ignore it all.

But now.

Now, standing in a world that is all his own. Without Zetsu. Without a war. Without a village.

Now, Sakumo stops a hairsbreadth from him. “Thank you.” The words are quiet. Intimate. They fill the distance between them gently and with care. “Thank you for showing me this.”

At this distance Obito can feel the warmth of his body, and the rush of his breath. Obito is sure Sakumo can hear the way his heart is pounding in his chest. Sure that he can hear the hitch in Obito’s throat as a hand traces over his jaw – feather light – until it cups his cheek.

There is a look in Sakumo’s eyes that says he won’t move any further. That it is _his_ choice to close the distance.

Obito doesn’t think he’s ever had an easier decision to make.

It is by no means perfect. Wet, and inexperienced because Obito hasn’t kissed anyone before. But Sakumo’s lips are soft, and the way his arms wrap around Obito makes him feel too full and empty all at once.

He laughs as they pull apart, a tattered sound that catches the wind of rising emotions in his throat. Sakumo does not pull away, does not back up in sudden regret. He meets Obito’s gaze, steady and dark. They stay like that for a moment more before Obito slowly moves back, his hands untangling from silver hair.

He isn’t sure what this means. What it means for them, or their relationship. What he does know is that there’s an ache in his chest that lacks any pain. An ache that he doesn’t plan to let go of.

A more selfless shinobi would walk away. Would reason that with the war and Zetsu still haunting the future there can’t possibly be a happy ending to this. But Obito is not selfless. No matter how he tries to be. For all his promises to Rin, to Naruto, to himself, there is not an ounce of restraint that would ever allow him to walk away from _this._ Whatever _this_ is.

“We should head back,” he says.

“Can’t leave the pups for too long,” Sakumo agrees easily enough.

They leave late that night, even with the academy the next day. The kids don’t complain about the late hour even as yawns break through their lips, but Obito finds no surprise in this.

The Uchiha guards posted at the compound gates give them short glances, making no comment at the hour. It’s only when he opens the door to the clan house that Obito realizes with a jolt how long it’s been since he has returned. Not since before leaving to find Tsunade, and that was at least a month ago, probably more. There is dust on the table, and a curtain of staleness draping over him as they walk through the door. Nothing he isn’t used to after spending so long in caves, but he takes note that he’ll need to air it out tomorrow – Mikoto will force him to clean the next time she comes by regardless. Best to get a start on it before she can comment.

It is easy to shuffle Obi into the bathroom to brush his teeth and prepare for bed, the boy’s eyes are practically closed and Obito is sure that he’s asleep before his head even hits the pillow. With a sweep of the house he checks each trap and adds a touch more chakra to each seal before settling down himself.

And as he shuts his eyes, letting sleep pull him into the blissful embrace of nothing, he sends out a silent wish that time could let him enjoy this peace for a moment more. But the world doesn’t slow down. It trips over itself in its haste to reach a war that Obito knew was arrivng all too soon. The official announcement comes the next day. The village becoming alive under the heavy atmosphere of promised death. The war comes on the eve of a storm, the likes of which future generations will look upon as an omen of the horrors to come.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... this chapter is not only un-beta'd but it is a little bit rushed... so if you guys see any mistakes please, please, please point them out to me so I can go back in and fix them!!! Thank you my lovely readers, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter; it's on the shorter side, all things considered...  
> Anyway, onto the chapter!

War is nothing new to him. He has lived his entire life in a state of war. War with other villages, war with himself, and a war entirely of his own making. War is nothing new. That doesn’t mean he is looking forward to fighting this particular war, however.

A week since the official announcement, and Jiraiya still has not returned to the village despite the Hokage sending team after team to try and track the bastard down. A week since the official announcement and the bodies are already piling up. A week and Obito walks into the Hokage’s office with Sakumo at his side. They had been seeing the kids off when ANBU appeared to share the man’s request for an audience.

“Sakumo, Obito,” the Hokage greets them, and while Sakumo bows at the leader Obito resolutely stays standing. Sarutobi says nothing at the offense. “I have a mission for you two. You’ll be heading to Amegakure, it seems Danzo has meddled in their affairs. I need you two to go there and take care of any ROOT members you find.”

Obito takes in the mission with a breath of relief; it would seem the man was taking his advice and helping the Akatsuki – taking a proactive stance for once. One that would, most likely, help Konoha in the future and ensure an alliance at the end of the war. For all that Hanzo had not originally made his move until the end of the Third War, wiping out the bug now would mean they wouldn’t have to do so later.

Still, he would need to figure out how to work Tobi into Hanzo’s downfall without Sakumo seeing him; they spent enough time together that Obito was _sure_ the man would be able to smell it is him.

“When do we leave?” Obito asks.

“As soon as you can,” Sarutobi leans back in his chair, “the sooner the better.”

“Of course, Hokage-sama,” Sakumo says easily.

Sarutobi nods, seemingly happy with the response, “You are dismissed.”

They leave through the window, following the line of the roofs towards the Hatake compound, after all everything Obito needs is already in his dimension. Still, Obito follows Sakumo into the house as the man starts reaching for provisions – food, and clothes, and weapons.

He stops Sakumo as the man reaches for a sleeping mat, “You won’t need that.” At Sakumo’s raised eyebrow Obito has to suppress a roll of his eyes, tapping pointedly towards his sharingan, “We’ll get there in seconds.”

“Right,” Sakumo huffs a chuckle. “That must make missions a breeze,” Sakumo says, walking towards him steadily, “where have you been all my life?”

At this Obito _does_ roll his eyes, “Admit it, mutt, you _like_ running through the woods.”

Sakumo hums, stopping entirely _too_ close to Obito for his brain to properly function, “I am a wolf, darling.”

Obito’s gaze flickers down to Sakumo’s lips and then back up to find the man’s eyes _sparking._

They haven’t talked about it yet. ‘It’ being the kiss they shared in his dimension a week ago, but with how much freer the Hatake has been with flirting Obito isn’t disillusioned into thinking he’s forgotten. Besides, he had the distinct feeling that Sakumo is waiting for him to make the next move, giving him space to figure it all out. (And damn it all if Obito doesn’t _appreciate_ that.)

Well, Obito corrects as their breath mingles, figurative space, at least.

It’s a stupid thought, but the only real memory he has of a relationship was of Minato and Kushina and the way the two always kissed goodbye before each mission, regardless of whether they were on it together or not. It’s a stupid thought, but it won’t go away.

Obito’s eyes flicker down to the man’s lips once more, his fingers reaching out and finding Sakumo’s by his side to lace together.

It’s a stupid thought, but when has that ever stopped him before?

He leans in the last inch of distance between them, his eyes closing on their own as their lips touch. It is soft at first. Warm like a summer day. But then Sakumo’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip and suddenly he is opening his mouth as a heat sparks through his chest and down his spine. Scorching in all the ways that matter.

Sakumo is the one to pull away, pupils blown wide in his dark eyes that are searching through Obito’s expression for something he cannot place.

With a huff Obito draws back further, tugging on the hand he still has in his as he steps towards the door, “We need to see if Minato and Kushina can look after the kids.”

 

 

 

He isn’t sure what exactly he had been expecting when bringing Sakumo and him to the outskirts of Ame. It most assuredly was _not_ a full out battle being fought a mere minutes’ run away.

They sit on the edges of the fight for a long moment, taking in the headbands of either side quick enough to realize that both groups wore Ame’s symbol. A fight between Hanzo’s troops and the rebels then, Obito concluded. A few Konoha headband are shown too, but Obito ignores those as he searches for the familiar chakra signatures of Nagato or Konan.

They are there, right in the thick of everything.

Obito knows that they won’t die in this fight, at least as far as his knowledge on his own dimension will tell him. But this isn’t his own dimension and he’s already changed enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if they did. With this is mind he shoots Sakumo a look and dives into the battle, a naginata pulling from his dimension to slice through several of the shinobi in his immediate range.

He refrains from using kamui as much as possible as he and Sakumo work their way through the shinobi – ROOT members and Hanzo’s lackies alike. It isn’t exactly a common technique and he isn’t keen on having _that_ of all things give him away to the Ame trio.

The fight doesn’t last much longer, with the additional force of the White Fang and himself the enemy flees within minutes. Leaving them to deal with explaining their presence and trying to gain some form of trust.

“ROOT members, all of them,” Sakumo tells him with a wave towards the few dead Konoha nin at their feet, but Obito knows it’s more for the benefit of the Akatsuki members slowly gathering around them rather than Obito himself.

“Even with Danzo dead they’ll continue with the mission,” Obito hums, meeting Sakumo’s gaze before looking to the gather crowd. Konan, Yahiko, and Nagato – having pushed their way to the front – meet his gaze head on.

It is strange, Obito has to say, seeing them like this. Young, and whole, and burning with a fire that isn’t fueled by painful revenge.

It’s a good look.

“What are Konoha shinobi doing helping us?” One of the Akatsuki members calls out.

“We’re here on orders to eliminate all ROOT members and help Akatsuki,” Sakumo says smoothly, not even wavering as the group starts to surround them.

Even if they try to pull something, Obito will be faster – refuses to let Sakumo be hurt because of this mission or any other that Obito joins him on. He has lost enough precious people, and Sakumo won’t be joining that list.

“How do we know you’re not spies?” Yahiko demands, stance defensive and more than ready to put his fellow Akatsuki members behind him should either of them attack. Obito can see why people follow him, with that level of protective instinct.

Obito pulls the scroll the Hokage gave them from his weapons pouch, holding it up for the surrounding shinobi to see as a way to let them know he isn’t attacking. He tosses it towards Yahiko’s feet, close enough that the man can simply reach down and grab it, but not so close as to be confused with anything else. Yahiko glances from the scroll to him and back, before finally reaching down and unrolling it. He scans the contents, not even bothering to stop other shinobi from reading over his shoulder as it does.

Whatever the Hokage wrote seems to satisfy the groups suspicions, at least for now.

“Follow us,” Yahiko says, turning on his heel with a wave of his hand to signal that the group is moving out. Ame shinobi surround them, no doubt a precaution. One that Obito really cannot fault them because he would do it himself if he were in their position. Any self-respecting shinobi would.

The camp isn’t far away, which explains the large number of shinobi at the battle – most likely a patrol was attacked or found they were being trailed and back up came to support. It also meant the fact those shinobi from before managed to retreat could be a problem. If they reported back then it wouldn’t take too much thought for Hanzo to figure out that the base would be close by, or at least in the general area. Assuming Hanzo didn’t already know the location.

But perhaps that could also make their mission here easier – it would mean that Hanzo would send more search parties to this area and Obito doubted that they wouldn’t have at least a few ROOT agents in them.

They are led into what appears to be a cafeteria of sorts, whispers rising around them as even more shinobi take note of the two Konoha nin in their midst. Yahiko, Konan, and Nagato make a point to hush the whispers, but don’t bothering leading them to a more private room to talk.

“You Kage says a member of your council betrayed your village and sent shinobi here to aid Hanzo,” Yahiko starts, the hushed whispering from earlier come back in anger shouts and demands for their lives. It’s rather unsurprising, really.

“Yes,” Sakumo’s gaze doesn’t waver from Yahiko’s, “as I said before, we are here to take care of the ROOT members, and to aid your cause in any way we can.”

“Why now?” Yahiko demands, his eyes narrowing. “You cannot expect us to believe Konoha is suddenly interested in us smaller nations.”

Sakumo opens his mouth to answer but Obito steps forward, knowing all too well that right then the answer they thought to give earlier wouldn’t be enough, “That’s my fault.” He says, “It’s come to our attention that there is a… creature trying to harm the elemental nations. Danzo was being controlled by this creature. I suggested to the Hokage that we stop whatever plans it had, and if that means helping the Akatsuki…” he shrugs, as if to say, ‘then that’s what we’ll do’.

It’s a lie. Bold faced and without an ounce of evidence to back it up, but there is also no evidence to dispute it. And from the way Nagato’s eyes widen slightly, his hand going out to tug ever so lightly on Yahiko’s sleeve… well, Obito would say they’ve believed him.

Yahiko sends Nagato a nod, small and reassuring, “How did you learn about this… creature?”

Obito shifts, knowing all too well that telling the truth and giving information may build trust, may give more evidence that they are on the Akatsuki’s side, but they are _shinobi._ They don’t share information so freely, there is always a price. To share information without a second’s thought would get them killed, and so to do so now would be a red flag to their hosts that they are either lying or here for something other than what they’ve said. He’s already revealed too much as it is. Between the Hokage’s scroll, clearly detailing they have suffered from an internal conflict, and his own reveal of knowledge of Zetsu… to reveal more wouldn’t do them any good.

“That’s not important,” he settles on telling them, stepping back to stand equal with Sakumo once more.

“We’ll decide what’s important!” A shinobi shouts from the crowd, voice angry.

“Kyoko.” The sharpness in Yahiko’s voice broaches no further outbursts. Attention focusing back on him and Sakumo, Yahiko gives them a long look, gaze calculating, “How long are you staying?”

“A week or two,” Sakumo tells him, “we want to clear out as many of Danzo’s agents as possible.”

Yahiko nods, “We’ll provide you with food and a bed, but you will follow orders like any other member.”

“Understood,” Sakumo says, giving the young leader an approving look.

“Follow Nagato to your room,” Yahiko tells them, waving towards the redhead behind him, “it’s late, so you should get some sleep.”

They’re given a room with a single bed, most likely because the three leaders understand that putting them in the barracks with the rest of the Akatsuki members won’t end well for anyone. The room is fairly far from the cafeteria area at that, and Obito caught Konan talking about setting guards as they followed after Nagato. It’s a smart position – keeping them away from an area where plans may be discussed to keep them from knowing anything other than what they absolutely must, while also keeping them under watch with the illusion of privacy.

The second the door closes Sakumo shoots him a look that demands he explain why he had taken the lead earlier. And what exactly all the talk about the creature was.

Obito expected this. Knew he would have to explain at some point, especially considering they only told Sakumo the bare minimum when Sarutobi assigned them as partners for the foreseeable future. It just brings the questions of exactly _how_ much he should tell. Because lying now… lying now, especially about something so big could hurt them later. Could hurt Sakumo, because it would show Obito doesn’t trust him.

But to tell him everything may drive him away all the same.

Obito mouths a silent, _‘Later.’_ To Sakumo, because he’ll tell the man _something_ at the very least. He just isn’t sure what, yet.

Sakumo takes the response in stride, simply checking the room over for traps and then working to set traps of their own, “I’ll take first watch.”

Obito doesn’t protest. They had waited until after the kids were out of the academy before heading out, making sure to feed them and send them off to Minato and Kushina’s house with a little over a week’s worth of supplies. And between the battle and the meeting… well, Yahiko hadn’t been lying when he said it was late.

Despite not exactly doing much that day Obito felt worn to the bone, a tiredness that even his altered body couldn’t seem to chase away. So, he doesn’t protest, simply slips into the bed and shuts his eyes to the world, letting sleep take him.

 

 

He opens his eyes to a blue sky, covered in pink clouds and butterflies. Grass tickles his hands as he pushes up to stand, taking in the landscape of roaming hills and trees, sunlight dappled and bright green. The breeze comes soft, and warm, carrying the scent of flower petals. If he holds his breathe and listens there is the rustle of animals and the rush of a stream not far off to his left.

It is a peaceful scene.

“Obito!” Rin’s voice calls out to him, happy, cheerful, loving. It calls to him, and he turns to meet it. He spots her, not far off, looking as if she never died. She waves to him, smile bright as her eyes. It makes something in his chest tighten, catching on emotions that burn his eyes.

“Rin,” he breathes out, and as he takes a step towards her Minato’s figure appears, and then Kakashi’s. Both of them standing there as if he had stepped into a memory.

“Obito,” Rin calls out again, “hurry up! We can’t be late to get our mission!”

He takes another two steps forward, and another and another, and yet no matter how fast he runs they do not get closer. “Rin!” He calls out, trying to tell her with just a name that he is sorry. That he cannot reach her. That he is trying, trying so hard, but no matter how he reaches she is too far. Wants to tell her that he is fixing everything.

He takes another step forward, hoping that this one will make him cut the distance down. It doesn’t.

Instead Rin lowers her hand, eyes – bright and happy and alive – going wide and suddenly there is a hole in her chest, and the grass is stained a bright, bright red. Her face goes pale and all Obito can do is _watch._

Kakashi’s hand turns red, too red. And Minato gain’s a hole through him the size of kyuubi’s claw.

“No!” He shouts, “No, no, no!” But the words don’t change anything. Running doesn’t change anything. He can only watch as his teammates collapse before him.

“Obito,” Naruto’s voice comes from his right, and he spins, the image of the blonde coming to life in the breeze of the field. “Your name is Uchiha Obito.”

He doesn’t reach out for him, doesn’t want to watch Naruto die as well. But even that doesn’t stop the blood from pouring from the blonde’s mouth and eyes and suddenly Obito cannot breathe. Naruto collapses, turns to dust and rubble and Obito opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

“Darling.”

No.

 

 

“Obito, wake up!”

His eyes fly open, kunai in hand, sharingans blazing as he sits up in bed. He meets concerned grey orbs.

“Obito,” Sakumo’s voice says, soft and warm, “it was just a nightmare, you’re alight.”

He sucks in a breath, shaky in a way that it shouldn’t be. Tries to control his heart, but the pounding won’t stop, and he isn’t sure how to make it. Sakumo’s hands tighten on his arms, and suddenly it’s not enough, because that last voice, that last voice had been _his_ and Obito doesn’t even want to think about what he would have seen if he’d turned around. With another breath Obito pushes himself forward, presses himself into Sakumo’s hold and takes comfort in the strong pulse of chakra he could feel. Takes comfort in the way he could feel the man’s heart pumping in his chest.

Takes comfort. Feels _safe_ of all things.

Obito could laugh.

Laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Attraction is one thing... but this,  _this_ was something else entirely.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Good Things Out of Bad Situations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16342022) by [Ellesra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellesra/pseuds/Ellesra)




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